Chapter 120 – Merlin's Favor

As much as the subject repelled him, Vernon could not resist the urge, shared with Petunia and Dudley, to tune in to a BBC special running on Sunday night that provided a recap of events since the normal people awoke after several months of sleep, just over a week ago. The Dursleys sat huddled together in front of their television set, surprisingly quiet, as the astonishing story was told.

Petunia was horrified by much of the story, imagining what it would have been like for her had she been left on her own at Privet Drive for those months, even assuming that Vernon and Dudley were sleeping comfortably. She'd been so caught up in her discomfort at finding herself in the midst of magical people that this was the first time she had even considered the alternative. As it was, she'd actually seen first-hand some of the things just reported on in the story, and it gave her shivers.

Dudley gave this his usual very shallow attention, although he still thought that some of the things he'd seen at Harry's school had been rather neat, and he felt special for having seen some things that were only mentioned on the news program. Overall, however, he would have preferred watching an action movie.

Vernon's mind was working overtime as he watched. He was exploring all the angles – how could any part of this be used to his own benefit? What opportunities existed here for him? He'd seen the reaction of his neighbors to his family's return from the magic school. They'd seen the boy and knew his name, so they immediately knew that there was a connection between the boy in the messages with the royal family and the Dursleys. They'd also gotten very attentive to any story told by the Dursleys of their time at the school. Vernon had really enjoyed being the center of attention.

Of course, no one at his office or among his business associates knew about the boy. They had no idea that the family had taken in Petunia's nephew, or that they'd been watching this same boy on the telly. How could he work this into conversation, and make people aware, all in a way that was favorable to him?

Even better, how could he handle this in a way that would allow him to share his opinion that those people were all freaks?

X X X X X X X X X X

The party at Hogwarts was starting to wind down on Sunday night. Harry had finally found Severus' hiding place in an alcove and insisted that he join him in the party itself. To Severus' amusement, the crowd around Harry thinned dramatically once he stood at Harry's side. To Severus' surprise, that did not seem to bother Harry in the least.

Harry was still bidding the guests good evening as Albus approached them. He waited off to the side as the last of the students repeated their birthday wishes and took their leave.

"Ah, my boys, what a festive occasion! I can't recall the last time I enjoyed myself this much. Such an inventive birthday cake!" he offered in greeting.

The birthday cake had been quite a sensation. The cake itself had been baked by the house elves, but the elves were persuaded by the Weasley twins to allow them to decorate it. They chose this event to unveil one of their newest creations – Weasley Whiz-Bang Frosting. No birthday candles needed – the frosting itself emitted little plumes of fire that burned in various colors and set off the odd small explosion of fireworks above the cake. When the cake was cut and slices eaten, the person's face turned the color of the flame in the frosting on the piece he or she had eaten, as smoke curled from their ears. Albus' face was only just now fading back from the bright orange it had been, and there were still a few small wisps of smoke escaping from his ears; he'd gone back for a second helping, it appeared.

"I don't wish to disturb your evening, but wanted to ask if you would join me for a few minutes in my office. If tonight is not convenient, might you join me tomorrow after breakfast? I found some fascinating information that I'd like to share with you both," Albus continued.

Harry shot a questioning look at Severus. He certainly had hoped that they'd maybe pick up where they'd left off last night . . . of course, he wasn't going to say that in front of the Headmaster! But could they properly delay this visit with the Headmaster until tomorrow?

Severus seemed to understand his thoughts. "Albus, it has been a very long day. Might we agree to meet you in your office tomorrow morning?" he answered.

Harry hoped his pleasure at that suggestion, and Albus' nod of agreement as he too bid them good evening, wasn't too apparent, lest he appear rude. Severus' smirk as soon as the Headmaster's back was turned told Harry that Severus felt the same as he did.

The subsequent events of the evening established that Severus had also planned to pick up where they'd left off the night before. Severus even introduced Harry to some of the delights of that large bathtub they occasionally conjured in their bedroom.

The next morning, after breakfast, the pair duly reported to the Headmaster's office, to find him poring over a large stack of very old vellum and parchment.

"Ah, my boys! Good morning! A beautiful morning, indeed." Tea was offered, as were lemon drops, before Albus explained his cryptic invitation the prior night.

With his typical bluntness, Albus minced no words about his subject.

"Harry, as I believe you know, seers and sages have been speculating as to the level of maturity in the bond between you and Severus for some time now."

That was not a new or controversial fact as they'd all been reading of the speculation in the newspapers all year. Nonetheless, Harry swallowed visibly. This was apparently going to be one of THOSE conversations. His immediate wish to be swallowed up by the chair in which he was sitting was not granted, so he steeled himself for what was sure to come.

"I learned from Minister Bones last night that empaths have chimed in," Albus began. Seeing uncertainty in Harry's face, he added, "They are witches and wizards who have with a unique ability to sense the volume and movement of magic in the world, Harry. Several empaths expressed concern about a surge they'd detected on Saturday night in this part of the world. Empaths tend to work in wizarding governments, as there's really no commercial use for the skill, and the heads of several governments had been concerned enough to express concern to our Minister."

Harry cast a quick look at Severus, and was relieved to see that he was as surprised as Harry at this news. Harry always hated it when he learned that the Headmaster and Severus had discussed something about him but had not shared it with him.

"While Amelia had already deflected the inquiries based on what seers and sages were saying as a completely private matter, it was a bit more complicated with empaths. I felt the surge myself, and initially feared for our wards. From the house elves' comments, however, I deduced that your bond had, indeed, matured."

The Headmaster looked at Harry with sadness on his face and went on. "I know that you are a private person by nature, Harry, and I apologize for my bluntness, but in your current role, you are not going to enjoy the degree of privacy you would prefer. To deal with the empaths, we determined our best course was to actually share some information, confidentially. Madam Bones has replied to her counterparts from the countries who expressed concern, in strictest confidence, that we suspect the surge the empaths felt was associated with the maturing of your bond. We suspect that this will be the end of their interest in conversation about what their empaths felt."

Harry was confused, and to a slightly lesser extent, so was Severus. He hated that he and Harry had to have this conversation with the Headmaster, as he knew how Harry felt, but there must be some purpose, just not one clear to them yet.

"Albus, is there reason to be concerned at all about what the empaths are saying?"

The old man leaned back in his chair, and scratched his beard idly as he contemplated that question.

"Well, I spent a good amount of my day yesterday looking into that exact question. I certainly felt a surge here, but of course, I'm here in the castle. It was a shock to learn that empaths had sensed the same thing at significant distance from Hogwarts. But the thing that caught my attention the most was your reference, Severus, to the light you observed. The shimmering golden light that encased you and Harry."

At this, Harry cast a very startled look at Severus, who had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.

"I hadn't shared that with Harry, actually."

Looking directly at Harry, he went on, "You were already asleep, and I noticed a glow in the room. I looked more closely, and realized that this shimmering gold light seemed to be coming from us. It didn't hurt, and it was still there was I fell asleep myself. It was gone when we awoke, and with all the other things going on, I forgot to mention it to you. When the Headmaster told me that he'd been awakened by a surge in magic, and asked if I'd felt anything, I mentioned it to him then."

Fortunately, Harry was in a forgiving mood, and turned his attention back to the Headmaster.

"I was most curious about what this all meant. Bonds are matured all the time, and nothing like this happens. There have been numerous instances of wizard kings maturing bonds, and nothing like this was recorded in our histories, of which I was aware. So I went to some ancient source material."

Albus pointed to the stack of documents on the table before him. "These are from the Hogwarts Headmaster's Library, placed there over a thousand years ago by Rowena Ravenclaw." Severus' eyes widened at that – the documents looked old, but he was shocked at their true age, and amazing pedigree.

"The world was a different place then, and wizards needed kings more frequently, so the phenomena of a wizard king was more regularly studied and researched. She was actually something of an authority on it. After reading through her notes, I have come to the conclusion that the power surge and light had nothing to do directly with your kingship, nor even with the rather remarkable power levels that each of you have. I found some other things in her portfolio that might be more to the point."

He pointed to a particularly old sheet of vellum on the top of the stack. "Have either of you ever heard of Merlin's Favor?"

Harry was quick to shake his head to signal he'd never heard of it. Severus had significantly more knowledge of things in the wizarding world and its history, so he needed a moment to think and reflect before he, too, had to shake his head to signal the negative.

"This has only happened a few times in our recorded history, but one of Rowena's documents provided some information. When a wizard kings needs help in fulfilling his mission, and is deemed by Merlin to be deserving of the help, Merlin shows that wizard king his favor. The manner in which favor is shown depends on what is needed – once, it was the gift of eloquence, and once it was the gift of strategic wisdom. In the two cases for which some details were recorded, the arrival of the gift represented by Merlin's show of favor is accompanied by a shimmering, golden light – this ancient document uses the same words as you did, Severus, to describe what you observed."

To Albus' amusement, both Harry and Severus still looked perplexed.

"I suspect that Merlin has shown Harry his favor in the task he must perform as our king. Harry will not need eloquence or wisdom beyond what he already has, but to fight Tom Riddle and prevail, he will need power. Even if Tom can only use his own power, it is formidable, and he's much more experienced and practiced in the ways of battle. Merlin's Favor was shown to Harry, I believe, in creating some sort of connection between him and his bondmate that links or amplifies your power."

Severus looked a bit unsure, as if he was not accepting this at all.

"I realize it's a stretch, perhaps, but consider. The light can be read as a sign of Merlin's Favor, the timing of its arrival as your bond fully matured suggests that it is something that connects to the two of you, and the surge detected in the magic in the world suggest that all this involves your power. I don't sense anything different in your power levels as we sit here, so I am assuming that this is something that you can draw on when needed, in battle."

Harry's mind was spinning. His reaction to this news wasn't positive.

"I attract the odd bit of magic floating about in the world – I acquire a new language, some familiars, a skill, and possibly top off my capacity to hold my magic safely within myself. And now you say I've picked up some additional magic, from Merlin this time? Or maybe nothing, if my magic level is the same? How can we be sure this is even safe? Maybe the next time I use magic, I'll destroy someone!"

Severus leaned forward and reached out to take Harry's hand, a gesture of comfort. "Harry, you've used magic since this all happened, and your magic worked fine, and I felt nothing." Whatever else Harry had done during the day yesterday, he'd been the one to transfigure a cup into the bathtub they'd used last night, and he filled it with bubbly water, and that had gone perfectly. "At the very least, I don't think anything happened to you that night. Nothing changed, you're safe. I'm safe. Maybe this is something that will come to you when you need it, not before, or again."

Harry held Severus' hand tightly, squeezing hard, to quell his own panic. He drew a few deep breaths, and finally calmed enough to nod.

"I asked Amelia to keep this whole thing between just us, and I'd like to ask you both to do the same. As I explained to her, this is something totally beyond the experience of any empath alive today – the last reported incident of Merlin's Favor in the history books was already in those books when Rowena deposited her manuscripts in the Headmaster's Library. The most significant thing: Tom Riddle mustn't know about this. He's sure it is to his advantage to fight Harry while Harry is still young and inexperienced, and the last thing we want him to know is that Harry might have a significant advantage of his own. This is such a rare occurrence, even a modest research project might draw attention to the subject, leading to idle speculation or possibly information that gets to Tom's ears."

Harry allowed a very small smile. Usually the Headmaster was very accommodating of his desire to share all the details of his life with Ron and Hermione, but truly, it would not be humanly possible to keep Hermione out of a library looking for whatever she could find about this.

"I'm fine with that, Headmaster. We don't know what, if anything, this means to me. It might mean nothing at all, and we might never know that it actually happened as you suspect. And, for sure, Hermione would not be able to resist taking this on as a research project!"

Albus nodded over his half-moon glasses. "I'm very glad that you agree. Now, I found some particularly fascinating ancient documents that might interest Severus, and if you'd like to stay, I'd be delighted to show you as well."

Harry was glad for the reprieve – ancient documents, on a beautiful summer day, did not excite him. He went off to the classes being run on the lawn to help with the flying lessons for the morning, while Severus remained behind, to see the manuscripts that some of Rowena's later material had suggested had been penned by Merlin himself.

X X X X X X X X X X

Vernon's arrival at work on Monday morning was exactly the kind of grand entrance he'd hoped it would be. His assistant, Miss Enderlee, had already arrived and organized the mail on his desk, although no tea was ready as would normally be the case.

"Mr. Dursley! How wonderful to have you back! We missed you last week, and I was quite worried. We couldn't find your family on any of the lists of the injured or deceased, so we were hoping there was just some other delay keeping you away. I've organized your mail and messages, and will have your cup of tea in just a moment, now that you're back!" Vernon fully expected that Miss Enderlee was at work either as soon as she awoke, or the very next morning. It was clear that she was running the office just like always. He really appreciated her attitude, although all he did was grunt in her direction as he entered his office.

A very short while later, she brought him his tea as he sifted through the various documents collected in a neat pile on his desk. She fussed for a moment, and then spoke rather softly.

"Mr. Dursley, I do trust all was well. You've never missed a week at work before, without a word, and I was quite concerned. We haven't had any calls from headquarters or anything I couldn't handle, of course, but I did worry."

He smiled benignly at his fawning assistant and directed her to the chair across from his desk. It was time to put some critical information into the business gossip mill, and Miss Enderlee was an absolute master at that. Her ability to ensure that a particular fact got to a particular ear was even better than her considerable skill at keeping his office running smoothly. She sat primly, her feet crossed at her ankles, her pleated skirt hanging low over her legs, her graying hair pulled into a tidy bun.

"My family and I just got back on Saturday, actually. Mrs. Dursley's nephew is the young man who you've seen on the television, the young wizard who speaks with the royal family on those little announcements. He had us all brought up to the school he attends in Scotland, to be sure we were all safe in the Infirmary there during the time we slept. The principal suggested that the families of students stay there at least an additional week after we awoke, even though we, of course, do not have magic. He said the world was not entirely back to normal, and it would be easier for us all to stay there a bit longer. They finally said it was alright to return home on Friday evening and we were able to leave the next morning."

Vernon was torn by the reaction to his story. Miss Enderlee's wide eyes and look of awe were most gratifying, although it completely grated on him that this was all because of that freak, Potter. The gratification associated with celebrity status won out. With a very small smile, he shuffled the papers before him, and his assistant realized she'd been dismissed. Vernon was confident that most of the employees at Grunnings would know about this by lunchtime, as would most of his business contacts. "And, Miss Enderlee, would you please make a reservation for me at my club for lunch, usual time?" he added. That would assure that everyone at his businessmen's club knew, as well.

Several of Vernon's colleagues stuck their heads into his office as the morning progressed, to welcome him back, and ask questions about his time at the wizard school in Scotland, and about his wife's famous nephew. Vernon perfected his telling of the story as the morning wore on, and was quite pleased with it by the time he waddled down the street to his club.

Sure enough, Miss Enderlee had done her job. The barman came out to shake his hand as he entered, and the maitre de was most effusive in his greetings. His usual waitress, Sally, came to his table straight away and fussed at him for a very extended time, to the annoyance of other patrons.

Vernon made it a habit to enjoy a cigar in the bar with his tea before going back to his office, and he was delighted to have a half-dozen of the regulars pull up chairs and stools to speak to him about his time at the school in Scotland. He made sure it was an interesting story. He touched on all the things (whether he'd seen them himself or heard his wife describe them) that had so impressed his neighbors the day before, but added in his own commentary that spoke to the essential freakishness, untrustworthiness and likely evil of the magical world. His audience was alternately spell-bound and horrified as he spoke, to his immense pleasure.

There was one man sitting a few tables away, quietly sipping a Pimms, with a newspaper folded before him. He appeared to be reading, but he was very discreetly eavesdropping on the conversation among the group of acquaintances. He had felt the same suspicions that the gentleman doing all the talking was articulating. He was not willing to embrace this magical world that had just revealed itself. By his reckoning, they created the problem themselves, to the great harm and inconvenience of the normal people. He'd been bothered by that for over a week now, since he awoke, actually, and was so glad to hear someone, who'd even seen the magical people up close, speak the very thoughts he'd had. By the time he settled his bill and departed back to his own office, he'd learned the name of the portly gentleman holding forth. He would be sure to make the man's acquaintance, as it appeared that they had much in common.

Vernon was nearly an hour later than usual in returning from his lunch, and even though he had a great deal of work piled on his desk, he did not mind having to really apply himself for several hours to bring his work current. This had been one of the most enjoyable days he'd had in years.

X X X X X X X X X X

The television screen flickered in the parlor, as Voldemort watched in fascination.

He'd been so enamored of the device when he first sat before it in the old caretaker's house that he insisted that his minions find a way to make viewing it more accessible and comfortable, preferably in the manor itself. They struck gold in the form of a 12-year old muggle boy from the neighborhood, who for a fistful of that odd-looking muggle money, spent an afternoon connecting long black things he called wires from tall poles on adjacent properties, running them in a trench to the Manor, and finally weaving them in the most amazing, if completely incomprehensible, pattern between an assortment of devices he assembled with the television in the manor parlor.

When the boy was finished, he produced a small black tablet with an assortment of buttons, and explained to the older people who'd hired him what each button did and how to move between devices and to different channels. Voldemort had briefly entertained the idea of killing the boy rather than letting him leave, but he was so taken by the things he could do with the different devices the boy had hooked up for them that he never even noticed the boy just walk out the door.

The news broadcasts were of the most immediate interest, but as Voldemort devoted more time to watching the things that appeared on the television as he accessed the various devices, he found shows that were not news of the day, but apparently presented for entertainment. He quickly became quite addicted to Dr. Who, and a daytime game show.

The news broadcasts were getting more and more interesting.

The idiots at the Ministry were still sharing all manner of information about the magical world, apparently hoping that this new openness would lead to acceptance and appreciation of magic. The muggle royalty seemed to have bought their story, and were doing their best to keep things positive.

But there was a strong undercurrent, clearly evident in the muggle newspapers and in their television news reports, of strong distrust and fear. It was just a matter of time, and there would be a full-scale backlash against the magical world. It was already happening in some countries. He wasn't entirely sure about the form that would take, or when it would become too visible to ignore, but it was brewing here in England.

Voldemort spent a good amount of time contemplating how a muggle backlash against the magical world would play into his plans. He was so absorbed in visualizing the reaction and how devastating it would be to those who opposed him, he nearly missed the opening credits of Dr. Who when the program came on that evening.

X X X X X X X X X X

In his small home in Abbeville, Cornelius Fudge watched the same news programs and read the same newspapers as Voldemort from a chintz club chair in the parlor. He was as excited as Voldemort was at the growing unrest and distrust of magic in England. There had been some riots already in some of the smaller towns here in France, and it seemed that had occurred in other countries as well, but it was going to start soon in England.

Cornelius wanted to go back to England, to regain his position of authority and prestige. He hated living like a retired public servant, as he explained his assumed background to the few in the area who'd sought to engage him in conversation. This was not his destiny.

It was all a matter of timing, and he sensed that the time was getting closer. There were several reports of anti-magic rallies in London today, as well as attacks on businesses thought to be owned by witches and wizards in a few smaller communities.

Cornelius had done enough planning to have his safe-house in place, and funds available for his use, and even a story to explain his presence in Abbeville, but he was planning against something very vague to him. He'd never fully envisioned what might have happened in England that would cause him to have to bolt. Thus, as he sat in his home and played his role as a retiree, he contemplated his next steps for the first time.

As he watched the news, he saw the evidence that sentiment against magic was growing in England. He pondered what resources were available to him, what opportunities were uniquely his, to turn these events to his favor. He'd been Minister for Magic for a number of years now, and had met the muggle Prime Minister several times, where Amelia Bones had probably not even had time yet to introduce herself to him. It was actually possible that the Prime Minister was not even aware that there had been a change in leadership in the wizarding government.

He'd originally created the Wizarding Registration Act as a means of using the muggle government to assure that he had complete control over all the magical people in England and could never be removed from office as Minister of Magic. Of course, he'd never said any such thing to the Prime Minister. Might he spin the story of the Act a bit differently now, to his own advantage? For example, he could say that he saw developments in the wizarding world that suggested there was trouble brewing, and he sought to give the muggle government an effective way to control what was happening in the wizarding world.

Cornelius thought that made sense, but he needed to think about it a bit more. He would likely only have one chance to make his case. He had to clearly establish that he had tried to help the muggles and the Prime Minister by getting that Act passed, and then suggest some quick action by the Prime Minister that would bring Cornelius closer to his goal of restoration as Minister of Magic. He hadn't quite decided what that might be, but he did feel that he was headed in the right direction with this thinking.

He pulled himself out of his chair and headed out of his house. He'd found a modest café a few blocks away that prepared the local fish in a manner to his liking, and he'd begun to frequent the place for dinner. He missed England, but had a good feeling that he'd be on his way home soon.