Arthur woke up, disoriented and overwhelmed by a confusing amount of noise. He opened his eyes to Merlin shouting at a growling Tourmaline, who was flying around chasing Archimedes, who was screeching in distress and knocking things off of shelves.

"Tourmaline, stop it! Archimedes! Will both of you calm down!" Merlin stood on his desk, uselessly waving his arms around.

Tourmaline launched herself from the hanging light fixture with a roar and succeeded in ripping out a few tail feathers. Archimedes shrieked in pain and careened into Merlin. Startled, Merlin yelped and flailed his arms, almost falling from the desk. He caught himself, but in the process, sent a few picture frames flying to the ground. The glass shattered and the people in the pictures began complaining loudly, adding to the cacophony.

The door burst open and a man rushed into the room with his hand out. "What's going on here?"

"Dad!" Current predicament and wayward pets forgotten, Merlin leapt off the desk and ran to greet his father. "You're here!"

Balinor embraced his son tightly. "Happy birthday, Merlin."

Merlin buried his face in his father's chest and mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, son." They held onto each other for a moment.

Merlin pulled back to look at his father. "I thought you weren't coming home until next week."

Balinor smiled. "I took the day off. It's your eleventh birthday, it's a special occasion. And I heard that a certain someone got his Hogwarts letter this morning."

Merlin's face lit up. "Yeah! I'm a wizard, Dad! I'm going to Hogwarts, just like you!"

Balinor chuckled. "That's my boy. I knew you had it in you. It's a good thing too since I'm taking you and Arthur to Diagon Alley today."

"All right!" Merlin beamed adoringly at his father.

Arthur felt like an intruder on his precious private moment shared between father and son. The two were close despite the fact that Balinor spent the majority of his time away on Ministry business. Merlin idolized his father and aspired to be exactly like him, even though he had no idea what Balinor actually did for a living.

It was times like these that Arthur was unspeakably jealous of Merlin's family. He wished for a warm, loving mother like Hunith and a gruff, doting father like Balinor to fill the void in his life. His own mother was long dead, while his father was often absent, and distant even when he was home. The past year had been the worst, with Morgana off at Hogwarts and father busy at work, leaving Arthur alone in a big, empty house with only house elves for company.

Arthur found the solution to his problem by spending every waking hour with Merlin. When they weren't at the primary school in town, they were at each others' houses, fooling around until Hunith or Lullah came around to drag them home.

He found a surrogate family in the Ambrosiuses; Hunith coddled and scolded him like her own son, and Balinor, when he was home, often took Arthur and Merlin on outings like this one.

The three of them had traveled to Diagon Alley several times before, to shop for Christmas presents, purchase new robes, ogle racing brooms, or just to treat the boys to ice cream. It was impossible not to, especially when one lived in a tiny wizarding village with very few shops.

But when Arthur stepped out of the fireplace, the scene that met his eyes was entirely unlike the Diagon Alley he was used to. Merlin, who'd been a step behind him, stopped dead.

"What happened?"

The usually bustling street was almost deserted. The few people who were about didn't linger and scurried nervously to their destination. Windows were shuttered and several shops weren't open at all. It was eerily empty and silent. The only sound that Arthur could hear was that of rustling paper.

The sources of the noise were hundreds of posters affixed to every available surface as far as the eye could see, forming a bizarre sort of wallpaper. Every single one was emblazoned with the same image: a sinister-looking old witch, mat-haired, liver-spotted, and scowling fiercely at passerby.

Balinor was reading one of the papers intently, brows drawn together in consternation. He frowned. "The one day I miss the Prophet, a madwoman breaks out."

Curious, Arthur pulled a poster off the wall and studied it. Beneath the Ministry seal and the frightening photograph, it read:

'WANTED: MARY COLLINS

Mary Collins is a known practitioner of Dark Magic.

Convicted murderer, fugitive of Azkaban.

DANGEROUS, APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION'

Arthur looked away, unnerved by her appearance. "Who is that?"

"Mary Collins," Balinor replied absentmindedly, still focused on the poster.

Merlin looked on over Arthur's shoulder. "I've never heard of her."

"You wouldn't have." Balinor finally tore his gaze away. "She and her son were sent to Azkaban for using Dark Magic when both of you were very young. They killed a lot of people before Uther caught them."

Arthur's head snapped up. "My father?"

"Aye." Balinor wore an amused expression. "This was before he became Minister of Magic. Uther was still in auror back then."

Arthur's mouth dropped open in awe. He tried to picture his stern, conservative father chasing down bad-guys or dueling criminals, and couldn't. It was such a strange idea. "Father never said anything."

"It was a dark time," Balinor explained gravely. "I doubt it's something he wants to re-live. Mary Collins was always a mad, twisted woman. And she's only become worse since her son died years ago."

Merlin turned in a circle, considering the massive amount of posters and the deserted street. "She must be bad if people are this scared of her."

"And now she's at large, again," Arthur concluded flatly.

"It would appear so. But you boys shouldn't worry. You're quite safe at Hogwarts with Professor Kilgharrah," Balinor said reassuringly. "Speaking of which, we better get a move on if we don't want to be here all day."

"We're staying?" Merlin asked hopefully.

Balinor shrugged. "I don't see why not. It is your birthday after all. And the queues will be short since no one's around. Just stay close to me, boys, that's it."

First, they stopped at Gringotts so Balinor could withdraw some money. The goblins looked at them suspiciously, but said nothing. Balinor collected his pouch-full of golden galleons and Merlin and Arthur enjoyed themselves immensely on the wild ride to and from the family vault.

Next the boys were fitted for school robes. Then they picked up potions kits, cauldrons, vials, scales, telescopes, and textbooks. After each stop, Balinor sent their various bags and parcels back to their respective homes with a lazy flick of his wand.

They paused at the quidditch store to admire the new racing brooms, and again at the pet supplier's, even though Merlin already had Archimedes and Arthur had his own owl Cabal, just so they could stare at the strange creatures that were sold there.

"Come now, boys. We still need to get your wands," Balinor called.

"Wands?!" Arthur and Merlin immediately peeled their faces away from the purple bubble-blowing ermine. They ran for the door and shoved at each other to get outside first.

Balinor led the two boys, who were bouncing with excitement, into Ollivander's. Arthur and Merlin gaped with undisguised wonder at the sheer multitude of wands.

Arthur couldn't believe he was finally getting a wand. He'd been waiting for the moment forever. And even more since Morgana got hers and made a habit of twirling it around and bringing it everywhere and otherwise rubbing it in his face that she could do magic and he couldn't. He'd show her. Magic didn't look that hard; just waving a wand and shouting some gibberish. Arthur was determined to be way better at magic than Morgana was.

"Welcome, welcome! How are we doing today?" An energetic young man hurried out from the back room. He ran a quick hand through his hair, dislodging wood shavings from the auburn curls. "My name is Garvin Ollivander. What can I help you with today?"

"I'm looking for wands for these two." Balinor nudged Arthur and Merlin forward.

Garvin smiled at them, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Absolutely. Who wants to go first?"

Suddenly shy, Merlin looked to Arthur, who shrugged and said, "I guess I am."

Garvin studied him with a critical eye. "Hm. Let's try fir and…" He moved down the shelves, pulling out different boxes. "…unicorn hair? Possible. We'll try the other cores too. Could be an aspen. Ash could work. Not too springy."

He returned with several boxes. They all looked identical to Arthur but Garvin seemed to be able to differentiate between them. The young wandmaker selected a box and offered the wand to Arthur.

"Ash and unicorn hair, 10 ½ inches, fairly rigid," Garvin pronounced.

Arthur eagerly took the wand and gave it a wave. Nothing happened. He tried it again, more vigorously.

Garvin quickly took the wand back. "No, no. That's not it. Definitely not the ash. Fir perhaps?"

He handed Arthur another wand. "Fir and dragon heartstring, 13 inches, unyielding."

Arthur swished it confidently through the air and the wand emitted a few weak sparks. He glanced at Garvin hopefully but the man was shaking his head.

"The connection is too tentative." Garvin let Arthur try a few more fir wands before moving onto aspen. Again, the wand reacted feebly, releasing a small puff of smoke. But it clearly wasn't convincing enough for Garvin, who took the wand back. "Maybe we shouldn't focus so much on strong-minded," he muttered to himself. "Are you loyal or wise by chance? No, I'm sensing more courageous and honorable—"

He hastened to the back of the shop and returned with a single box, which he passed to Arthur. "I've got it! This should be the one. Cypress and unicorn hair, 12 inches, reasonably pliant."

It was golden brown in color and simple but elegant in form. Arthur held the wand gently in his palm and the heft of it felt right. He gave it a wave. The reaction was immediate. A surge of warmth raced through his hand, up the length of his right arm, and blossomed in his chest, spreading through his body and filling him with a pleasant sensation down to the tingling in his toes. From the wand itself, burst a beam of golden light, which bathed the room in an unearthly glow for a few seconds before it faded.

Garvin clapped his hands. "The wand has chosen! Excellent."

Arthur grinned at the stick of wood that he clasped in his hand. He'd found his wand!

"Now you know the rules. No magic until you get to school." Garvin took the wand out of Arthur's reluctant fingers and returned it to the box. He turned to Merlin. "And now for you."

Merlin squirmed under Garvin's scrutiny. The young man eyed him thoughtfully then disappeared among the shelves. He emerged with an armful of boxes.

"You, my friend, are harder to read. I'm not so sure which direction to take." Garvin extracted a wand from one of the boxes. "Try this one."

Merlin took the proffered wand gingerly and gave it an experimental wiggle. He held his breath, but there was no response. Garvin quickly snatched it back and replaced it with another. Merlin gave the new wand a wave, and still nothing.

He was given several more wands to try out: they ranged from long to short and dark to light. Some were carved with intricate grooves and swirls, while others were relatively plain and smooth. And each and every one that Merlin tried produced absolutely no affect, no sparks or beams or smoke or noises.

He felt frustrated and more than a little bit foolish, brandishing a chopstick and hoping for magic to come out. At least Arthur's attempts had garnered some kind of reaction. His fear of being a squib was beginning to creep back in. Garvin, however, seemed unperturbed by the lack of results and cheerfully returned to the shelves to reappear with more wands to try. They went through nearly thirty wands and Merlin was rejected by every single one.

Garvin frowned. "That's a 'no' to vine, pear, rowan, cedar, and applewood. Could you be cypress like your friend?"

The young man brought out a selection of cypress wands. Merlin gave each of them a flourish, and a few yielded a smattering of weak sparks.

Garvin scowled. "What am I doing wrong? It shouldn't be— Hold on for a sec."

He vanished through a door in the side of the shop. Merlin fidgeted, discouraged by the mountain of discarded wands that surrounded him.

Garvin returned with two men, one young and one older. The younger one was blonde haired, bookish, and bore a striking resemblance to Garvin. He was introduced as Garmond, his older brother. The other man was Gareth Ollivander, the young men's father and owner of the shop.

"If it isn't Lord Balinor Ambrosius," Gareth declared. "I haven't seen you in ages. 11 inches, moderately rigid, chestnut and phoenix feather?"

"Correct as always, Mr. Ollivander," Balinor replied with an amiable chuckle. He reached over to shake the man's hand.

"What can I help you with, Bal?"

Balinor laid his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "My son, Merlin, is looking for a wand."

"Son? Has it been so long already? I thought it was just yesterday, you were coming in for your own wand." Gareth shook his head. "Let's see you, lad. Shall we try hawthorn?"

With a swish of his own wand, Gareth summoned a box and presented its contents to Merlin. "14 inches, rather springy, hawthorn and dragon heartstring."

Balinor shouted, "Not the dragon—"

But it was too late. Merlin had waved the wand in his hand. As he moved it through the air, the wood grew scorching hot to the touch and began to tremble violently. Just as Merlin dropped it with a cry, the wand flared with an intense white light and exploded forcefully.

Everyone turned away, arms coming up to shield their faces from the flying splinters. Arthur shut his eyes, braced for the inevitable pain. He waited a second, two, but it never came. Slowly, he lowered his hands and gawked at the tableau before him.

Merlin had thrown his hand up, palm facing out. His eyes blazed an otherworldly gold, illuminating his face and making him appear inhuman in that moment. Suspended in the air, inches away from each of their faces, were the little shards of wood, frozen in place and halted in their trajectory. It looked like a real-life muggle picture.

Everyone blinked, in varying degrees of shock. Accustomed to his son's magical outbursts, Balinor was not surprised in the slightest. He had the prudence to vanish the slivers of wood before something worse happened. On the other hand, Gareth wore a look of mild astonishment, while Garvin and Garmond both gaped with open-mouthed wonder.

Arthur stared at his best friend in amazement. He was impressed, not by the display of wandless magic, but by the increase in power and control that Merlin demonstrated. The last time that he'd witnessed Merlin's magic, it still mostly resembled a child's instinctive magic, made more powerful by Merlin's heightened emotions. But now it was becoming increasingly obvious that Merlin's magic was something else all together. Arthur cheered, "That was awesome!"

"Yeah, that was amazing," Garmond praised, pushing his glasses up his thin nose. "How did you do that?"

"Dunno." Merlin shrugged sheepishly and ducked his head, trying to hide the fading gold in his irises and the blush on his cheeks. He wasn't used to being the center of attention.

"Why did the wand explode like that?" Arthur asked, diverting all eyes to him.

Balinor sighed. "It's my fault, I should have said something earlier. Merlin's magic has an aversion to dragon heartstring. It runs in the family."

"Ah. How did I forget?" Gareth shook his head ruefully. "You burnt the skin right off your hand when you tried a dragon heartstring wand. Gave me quite a scare."

Garmond was nodding in understanding. "It's no wonder the wand shattered. The hereditary disinclination was amplified the strength of the young man's magic. The wand didn't stand a chance."

Gareth rubbed his graying, bristly beard and regarded Merlin with a shrewd eye. "You're a powerful one. What you did, I've never seen anything quite like it. No, you wouldn't work with a regular wand. Let's try you with our more uncommon models then."

With a snap of his wand, several boxes came zooming through the air.

"14 ½ inches, whippy, acacia and unicorn hair."

Merlin gave it a swish and the wand belched out a foul smelling cloud. Gareth cleared the air with a twitch of his hand and offered Merlin another one.

"10 inches, bouncy, hawthorn and phoenix feather."

The wand produced a loud, rude noise.

"13 ½ inches, unbending, elder and phoenix feather."

A black scorch mark was singed into the ceiling.

"12 inches, flexible, yew and unicorn hair."

Merlin was thrown backwards by a sudden blast of air.

Not to be deterred, Gareth produced yet another wand for Merlin to try, which he took reluctantly. He was sick of flapping his arm around and despaired of ever finding a wand.

"12 ½ inches, relatively springy, English oak and phoenix feather."

Merlin gave it an unenthusiastic wave. Abruptly, a phantom wind picked up, ruffling Merlin's hair and stirring up loose papers.

Arthur felt the strangest sensation dance over his skin. The hairs on his arms stood straight up and a chill ran down his spine. Distantly, he could hear a sound, a long, pure note that echoed in his mind and elicited involuntary shivers. It was hauntingly beautiful and unearthly in a way that was impossible to describe. The sound crescendoed to the point that Arthur could feel it physically pressing in on his eardrums. Then, as suddenly as it came, it faded away to nothing. Arthur was left with a ringing in his ears and a haze in his mind. Despite his valiant efforts to cling to the memory, he could not recall what the chord sounded like, no matter how hard he tried.

"That was extraordinary!" Gareth exclaimed, giddy with excitement. Everyone else stared at him blankly, still dumbfounded. "Mr. Ambrosius, you must let me know how that wand works for you. I'm sure you'll accomplish incredible things with it. Absolutely fascinating!"

Merlin appeared wary of the man's eagerness, but mumbled his assent. From a few feet away, Arthur could feel the restlessness rolling of Merlin in waves.

He seized Merlin's wrist and began to drag him away. He called over his shoulder, "We're gonna wait outside. Thanks for the wands, Mr. Ollivanders."

"Yes, thank you!" Merlin chimed in.

Balinor must have noticed his son's agitation, because he didn't stop the boys on their way out. "Don't stray too far."

Once they were safely outside the shop, Merlin sighed a breath of relief. Arthur could see the edginess leave the tense line of his skinny shoulders. They sat down on the ground in front of Ollivander's.

"I thought I was gonna suffocate in there," Merlin confided.

Arthur glowered. "He was looking at you like you were some sort of zoo exhibit!"

"He didn't mean it," Merlin spoke up in his defense. "And what happened was pretty cool."

Arthur scoffed, "You're too nice. What would you do without me to look out for you?"

"I'm not—"

Merlin's words died on his lips. Arthur turned to look at him quizzically and found a fearful expression on his friend's ashen face. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, when he felt it too.

Arthur was suddenly overwhelmed by a dark wave of hopelessness. He was paralyzed by the icy grip of dread and drowning in an endless sea of anguish. Arthur felt empty, hollowed out by a bone-deep sense of loneliness. But at the same time, he was being crushed by an enormous leaden weight, a weight that would smother him so deep into the ground that the world would cease to remember that he'd ever existed at all. He was sinking deeper into a bottomless pit and with each breath, the light became more and more like a distant memory.

There was a shout, and then the darkness was thrown off like a thick shroud. Arthur hadn't even realized how cold he was until the warmth flooded back into him. Beside him, Merlin took a gasping, shuddering breath.

Arthur looked up through hazy eyes and thought he saw a great silvery wolf standing over the two of them. The creature radiated an aura of joy and hope and Arthur instinctively felt safe in its inexplicably familiar presence. Distantly, he heard a man's voice and was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder. He felt strangely detached from his senses, like he was drifting on a lofty cloud. The last thing Arthur remembered was a nauseatingly claustrophobic, constricting sensation, like his entire body was being squeezed into a paste by tight iron bands, before his vision dimmed to black.

When Merlin woke up, he was groggy and confused. He had no idea how he'd ended up in his bedroom and wasn't sure whether the garbled images in his head were dream or memory. Some of it was nightmarish enough that he hoped it wasn't real.

Merlin rolled over in his bed and was met with the sight of Arthur, squatting by the door with his ear pressed to the wood and munching on an enormous slab of chocolate. Pacing next to him was the enormous translucent wolf that Merlin had thought he'd imagined.

"What's th—"

"Shhh!" Arthur whipped around and glared at him.

Merlin untangled himself from the sheets and silently approached his best friend. Keeping his voice at a whisper, he asked, "Where did the wolf come from?"

Arthur shot him a look of disbelief. "That's your dad's Patronus, you idiot."

"Oh." Merlin had heard about them, but he'd never seen a true Patronus before. He turned so he could examine the wolf more closely.

As if it had sensed Merlin's attention, the wolf gazed inquisitively back at him and padded closer. It was a ghostly silvery-white and glowed bright enough to light up the dark room. Standing at a meter high and built of solid muscle, the wolf was a powerful creature and Merlin was comforted to have it as his protector. Just by being near the Patronus, Merlin's heart grew exponentially lighter and his spirits rose to new heights. And even though he'd never encountered it before, Merlin felt a strong affinity for the wolf; it had some sort of essence that was distinctly Balinor. He didn't know how he'd missed it before.

Merlin goggled at Arthur with wide eyes. "So, what we saw, that thing was a—a dementor?"

Arthur nodded solemnly. He shoved a handful of Chocolate Frogs at Merlin. "You're supposed to eat chocolate when you see a dementor so you don't turn into a ghost."

Merlin hastily unwrapped a frog and crammed the entire thing into his mouth. He chewed quickly and reached out for another one. Through a mouthful of chocolate, Merlin asked, "So what are you listening to?"

Arthur brought a finger to his lips and glued his ear back to the door. Intrigued, Merlin did the same.

It wasn't hard to discern. There were two male voices arguing loudly from the floor below. Every so often a female would chime in, and Merlin recognized it as the imploring voice of his mother. Of the two men, one was clearly his father, and the other, he swiftly identified as Uther Pendragon, Arthur's father and the Minister of Magic.

"How could you be so irresponsible! What kind of fool leaves two young boys unattended in Diagon Alley?" Uther was shouting.

"They were not unattended," Balinor snapped defensively. "I left them for a minute!"

"I entrusted my son's care to you and you nearly got the boy killed!"

"Me? How was I to know that you released a dementor in Diagon Alley? I didn't ask to be attacked and it's your fault it was there in the first place, Mr. Minister."

"Not that you would know the first thing about responsibility, but it is my duty to ensure the safety of the entire wizarding community as a whole," Uther informed him, haughtily. "Perhaps you haven't heard, but there is a murderous sorceress at large."

Balinor scoffed. "What, and did you expect to catch Mary Collins while she strolled down Diagon Alley, shopping for a new hat? And even if she was, did you really think you could stop her with a single dementor?"

"You forget that users of dark magic cannot produce corporal Patronuses—"

"Oh please, the woman lived with hundreds of dementors for the past ten years. I'm sure she knows how to communicate with the damn things by now. After all, she did manage to escape from your 'most secure prison on the planet'."

"I can hardly stand by and do nothing. It was a precaution, something to reassure the people."

"It was stupid! What if it ran into someone who couldn't produce a Patronus? Innocent people could have been killed!"

Uther made a noise of outrage. "Don't you dare presume to tell me how to do my job! Why you—"

"Balinor! Uther! That's quite enough! You'll wake the boys." Hunith cut in sharply. She hadn't raised her voice, but she was using that 'Mum' tone and Merlin knew never to cross her when she sounded like that. "Look at you two, squabbling like children and pointing fingers. It was an accident. It was no one's fault. What's important is that the boys are safe and no one was hurt."

There was a beat of silence. Balinor and Uther glared at each other, both breathing hard.

"You're right, of course, Hunith," Uther said stiffly. "I apologize to both of you. I'll just collect Arthur and I'll be right out."

Merlin clutched at Arthur in alarm. "They're coming!"

The two boys scampered across the room and dove into Merlin's bed. Arthur hauled the covers over both of them and they slumped bonelessly, feigning sleep. Merlin tried to keep his face relaxed and only flinched a little when the lights turned on and someone came in.

"Hmm, I wonder who ate all this candy by the door,"Hunith said loudly. "It couldn't have been Arthur or Merlin because they're obviously sound asleep." She waited for a moment. "Give it up, boys. I know you're awake."

Merlin peeked out from behind the blanket. "Hi, mum."

"Hello darling, how are you feeling?" She brushed the hair from his forehead.

"I'm okay."

"That's good. And you, Arthur dear?"

Arthur opened his eyes, giving up the pretense. "I'm fine, Mrs. Ambrosius."

"Wonderful. Now, I'm sure both of you heard every word that was said downstairs. Arthur, you'll need to get your things together. Your father's taking you home."

Arthur slunk out of bed and went to gather his possessions. When he was packed, they all went downstairs, where Balinor and Uther were standing on opposite sides of the living room, coldly ignoring each other. Both men looked relieved when the others entered.

"Arthur." Uther strode over to his son. He didn't say anything else, only rested his hands heavily on Arthur's shoulders.

Uther turned to leave, but Arthur ducked out of his grip. He ran over to Merlin and threw his arms around his friend. "Bye, Merlin. Happy birthday again."

"Bye, Arthur. I hope you don't get into trouble," Merlin said worriedly.

"Nah, I'll be fine. Bye, Mr. and Mrs. for everything."

Hunith smiled at him. "It's been lovely having you here. Come back whenever you like."

Arthur returned to his father's side and Uther took his son's hand. Without a word, he brusquely marched into the fireplace, dragging Arthur behind him. And with a flare of green, they were gone.