Sorry I'm late~ I'm not even rereading these. At this point, there are going to be serious repercussions to this story. Bluh. I don't wanna go to school anymore~
Gringotts
Most shops were still open, though some had already closed due to the darkening sky. It couldn't have been later than six o'clock, so Merlin traveled with his owl of a dragon, carefree as ever.
"First," said Kilgharrah, "You need new clothes."
Merlin slipped on his wet sandals, falling to the ground with a groan. Passing men and women winced.
"And shoes."
They made their way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Madam Malkin was all smiles and of mauvish robes. She was short, so didn't intimidate Merlin like other witches would have.
If she was tired of the many students coming in for robes, she didn't show it, though she did ask, "Hogwarts, dear?" before Merlin could let out a word. He nodded.
He may have been the last batch of the day, as he was alone the rest of the time. He did not meet any children his age (eleven, said Kilgharrah, if the letter from Hogwarts was anything to go by), though he did pass some who were carrying school items out of stores, talking animatedly to their parents.
Merlin glanced at Kilgharrah, who looked to be in no mood to talk. He sighed, increasing his speed, just a bit, dragging his new chest loudly behind him.
He suddenly missed the familiar surroundings of his house, oppressive as they were. He had many journals full of funny and terrifying experiences he could read there, including spells he didn't dare read aloud.
They reached a point in which Merlin had only one item left on the list — a wand — but no money.
"Don't have any more money," he muttered, frowning as he took out currencies from his pockets that mismatched the wizarding world.
Kilgharrah huffed. "We'll have to make the trip to Gringotts after all," he almost groaned, to which Merlin winced.
"Sorry," he said, wondering why the dragon didn't want to go, and if he should be afraid. Or was Kilgharrah just tired of him after four days?
The dragon didn't reply to his apology, leading the boy to an edifice, white and tall, with bronze doors and a goblin ready to welcome them in.
Merlin looked warily but didn't comment when Kilgharrah chose to finally speak to someone other than the warlock.
"This is Emrys," he said. The goblin looked at Merlin, raised a brow, but nodded all the same.
The goblin was a lot shorter than Merlin, but definitely more clever if his flourish and gait were anything to go by. Nonetheless, the goblin bowed when they walked inside.
Enter stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Merlin thought the words on the second pair of doors they passed were being dramatic but chose to heed. He was no longer as wise as he had once been, but he was not stupid. He should not steal from the bank, Gringotts.
Not that he would have needed to.
The tiny golden key Kilgharrah had warned Merlin not to forget opened his very own Gringotts vault.
The journey to the vault was interesting.
It seemed the goblins recognized them. They bowed as the first goblin had, some with more reverence, others with a smugness that Merlin though befitted their jeering eyed and pointed chins.
Kilgharrah flapped to a nearby counter, glaring at Merlin as if challenging him to do something. Merlin did not know what this something was.
"What's wrong Kilgharrah?"
The disguised dragon lost the ability to fly for less than a second, losing a foot in height before regaining himself. He glared intensely at Merlin.
"Kilgharrah," a sly voice came from behind the counter, where a goblin was counting notes.
Merlin looked to see the goblin had a smile to match his words. He switched from looking at him to looking at Kilgharrah and back again.
"Do you know each other?"
"No," Kilgharrah ground his teeth— beak. He ground his beak?
The goblin raised his brows with a haughty look but agreed that no, he and Kilgharrah did not know each other. Merlin did not believe them for a second. However, his companion's stare was getting scarier by the second, so he decided to introduce himself rather than wait for hell to break loose.
"I'm Merlin Emrys," he extended a hand. The goblin did not take it.
"Yes, I know. Do you have your key, Emrys?"
Merlin retracted the hand, fighting to keep his smile on. "Sure. Somewhere…" He checked his pockets, chuckling nervously when he found the small key in the first pocket—which he had to check a second time.
"Quaint," the goblin said. "Very well. Bloodwell!"
Another goblin made his way to them, leading them to a thin passageway, scattered with tracks that Merlin would not have known were necessary had it not been for the fun ride he would experience next.
Bloodwell whistled, and a cart made its way to them, so quickly that it almost reminded him of the Knight Bus.
"Kilgharrah," he complained, and, again, Kilgharrah was too frustrated for words.
"Kilgharrah?" The goblin sounded just as sly as the other, if not more so.
Merlin huffed when the disguised dragon ignored the two, but by then he had entered the small cart. Bloodwell didn't give him enough time to breath in again when he set them off.
Oh, Merlin preferred the Knight Bus so much more than he did this convey from hell!
He thought that maybe the ride would have been enjoyable had he been able to recover his breath, maybe find a stable footing. As it was, it felt like he was on the verge of falling out any time the cart chose to turn.
He never did fall out the cart, but he was flung forward when it stopped. He recovered more quickly than he should have, already used to falling over constantly. His journals definitely made it clear that he had never gotten rid of his initial clumsiness, and that Arthur — whoever that was — would surely be proud.
The air was cold around him, and he shivered. His vault was numbered seven hundred and nineteen. Merlin wondered how deep underground they were.
"Key," the goblin said, hand extended. Merlin handed it to him.
Once Bloodwell had unlocked the door, green smoke had filled the air, not allowing Merlin to take a look at his fortune, whatever it may be.
Once the smoke had cleared, the boy gaped. Despite the piles and mounds of gold that looked like they were going to fall over, he couldn't help but put them aside at the sight of the many other artifacts surrounded by Galleons.
There were so many more books than his house could hold!
There were ancient paintings, simple yet eloquent vases and statuettes.
A cross-bow, a staff that he couldn't help but stare at, a saddle, some armor he had a strong desire to polish — it looked in need of it despite being spotless.
A pair of socks lay beside the armor, looking important.
A small wooden dragon stood on a hill of gold, as if protecting it.
A pair of glasses leaned on a portrait of a blond man Merlin just knew had once been great.
Wilted flowers on some chainmail that looked significantly smaller than the armor stood beside a cup and a crystal (two items he felt incredibly wary of, but wanted to touch nonetheless).
It all meant nothing to him, yet he knew it meant the world to him.
He made sure to avoid touching any of it, unsure of the permissions he had. How could he dare to touch things of such value?
Instead, he gathered enough Galleons to make his pockets looked bunched. He'd have to figure out a spell for this, the coins were too heavy!
He bit his bottom lip before grabbing three nearby journals, discounting them as treasures of the vault.
He gave the room a final glance before stepping out, feeling less likely to speak than he had before. He did not notice Kilgharrah looking at his face, attempting to put an emotion to it. If he had, Merlin would have asked what emotion it was, for he did not know it himself.
It kind of hurt.
Bloodwell couldn't have cared less. The past professionalism was gone, and Merlin almost thought he could hear a bell strike eight times. Gringotts had closed for the night.
"So," the goblin suddenly seemed much more mischievous than it had before, "You're an owl."
Kilgharrah turned away from Merlin, and Merlin turned to his disguised dragon. Had the Great Dragon been able to pale, he would have.
"Whatever happened to that great and powerful beast that had so pretentiously gloated of its release, hey?" The goblin grinned wickedly, earning a glare from the owl figure.
"It's still here," Kilgharrah rumbled, but it did little more than amuse the goblin.
His laughter was shrewd, but Merlin didn't feel particularly threatened by it. If anything, the aura he could just feel was being emitted from Kilgharrah terrified him more.
"Oh, Emrys," the goblin turned to Merlin, who jumped at the sudden mention of his chosen surname, "You have done good."
What?
"Um," Kilgharrah was one word short of attacking the two, flying furiously beside them. Merlin knew a fire-breathing dragon would have probably been more frightening, but the owl beak and claws suddenly looked quite pointy.
"Why is it that you have chosen to become a child again?" Bloodwell asked, still laughing under his breath. He had a cold way of going about things, but the question seemed innocent enough to Merlin.
"I accidentally blew up an experiment," he said, though he did not mention his amnesia.
Bloodwell didn't seem to care but nodded anyway. "Follow me," he said, continuing to mock Kilgharrah as Merlin did as told.
"Merlin!" Kilgharrah looked like he had been slapped with a fish, which was a nice change from the usual glare he had on him.
Because of this, Merlin continued to follow. He was tired of Kilgharrah acting so angry! Sure, it was Merlin who had messed up, but it was also only Merlin who had forgotten his life! They were both stuck in different bodies that they didn't desire, but at least Merlin had tried to be positive about it!
He tripped on the way, almost falling onto the door of another vault. Strangely, Bloodwell grabbed his arm before he could make impact.
"Careful," he said, grinning as if he didn't mean it, "You touch that and you get sucked in, and I don't feel like getting you out right now." Merlin nodded.
They arrived at vault seven hundred and twelve, only meters away from Merlin's.
The door had no keyhole, however, and the goblin stroked a strange sigil onto the surface with his long fingers, glancing at Merlin impishly.
The door seemed to melt, falling out of sight to uncover a large room — larger than Merlin's vault.
Now, Merlin knew where all the female goblins had been. They had been preparing for a party!
The grand hall was not really decorated, but there were sets of instruments on a small platform, food and drink filling the surface of three tables on each side wall, and the floor was cleared in the middle — ready for a dance!
Next to the instruments, at the very center of the opposite wall, was a chimney that spit out goblin after goblin, each being greeted by a roguish goblin lady of their own.
Though it certainly didn't seem like they were welcome at first, once Bloodwell had introduced Kilgharrah and Merlin, they'd been the butt of every joke Merlin would hear for the rest of the night.
The boy couldn't have cared less! He was clumsy, but even he could enjoy a good dance in the midst of music and friendly, if not flippant, company. He was having such fun that he forgot his age of eleven and his lack of memories. Not that anyone else really cared, or even knew of his faulty mind.
He forgot of Kilgharrah, who had eventually settled down, grumpily, on a table, accepting the more polite conversations with food that came his way — gruffly rejecting the ones from goblins like Bloodwell, who wished to flaunt that they were now bigger than him, he had no right to feel superior to them.
Merlin didn't know how anyone could feel like they were better than these folk. They were a gleeful lot, but they never let him forget that he was no better than them.
As much fun as he was having, Merlin let himself be served some meat and liquor. Sadly, despite his true age, his body could not take the amount of alcohol he consumed. He would later wonder if even a wiser Merlin could.
He was a menace the rest of the evening, tripping over his own feet and falling over goblins who pushed him aside, playing with him as if he were a toy. Too drunk to care, Merlin laughed along.
It was much later in the night that Bloodwell, still poking fun at the pair of accidentally enchanted creatures, finally escorted Merlin and Kilgharrah out of vault seven hundred and twelve.
Merlin was a giggling mess, so it was no surprise to Kilgharrah when he fell over nothing and touched vault numbered seven hundred and thirteen. Bloodwell had been too busy with his jokes to catch him this time, and the boy was sucked in.
"Whoa!" The rush of falling through a door had woken Merlin slightly, though his surroundings were doubled and confusing.
He stood up as well as he could try, knocking on the thick door.
"Bloo'well," he crowed, falling into a whine. "Lemme ouuuut."
He heard a shift behind him but paid no mind to it. He was alone in the room after all — who would be crazy enough to touch the vault door (situation notwithstanding)? Merlin thought he heard a goblin say they only checked it once every ten years.
But he heard the shift again, and he had to turn to shush it. It was being annoying.
His eyes widened at the sight of a face, terrifying and deformed, looking at him. If looks could kill, Merlin would have been dead the second this one's eyes had glanced at him, as if a killing curse followed the individual around wherever it went.
It glared at him, and not even Kilgharrah's eyes had ever seemed to hold such contempt. But his dragon was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.
He couldn't help but scream, and, drunk and young, his magic burst out, flinging the scary figure away from him. As far away as possible!
The door behind him melted away, and Merlin fell back. His sight was blurry and nothing made sense except for that terrifying face.
A much nicer, albeit pointier, face looked him over, an owl flying above it.
"There's someone," he tried to say, but the words came out garbled. He shouldn't have had so much to drink.
But there was no need to mention it, Bloodwell had already seen. He yelled for his colleagues, but by then it was too late. He was hit by a green light and fell.
Other goblins ran to the scene, the figure long gone. It had fled.
Merlin looked at the goblin beside him.
"Bloodwell?" No answer. He tried shaking the body, but no amount of movement would wake him. At this point, Merlin wasn't sure anything ever would.
The world became black. Merlin was starting to hate that color.
Le sign. Drunk Merlin was a thing in the series, it's going to be a thing here! He didn't exactly get on a table to sing and dance, but he did go through quite a bit. Damn. I really had been hoping to make Bloodwell some sort of supporting character (like I was with Shunpike). It didn't quite happen :/
See ya, I guess~
P.S. I also guess you could consider this the end of the beginning. Le shruggers~