I said I wasn't writing the Granger outing but I'm a lying liar who lies so enjoy XD
Harry's surprised when Mr Wright tells him they're meeting the Grangers, not because he didn't know but because he thought it had been cancelled or something after the last few days. He still gets ready and sits quietly in the car while they drive to the right street, and when Dad reminds him to get in disguise, he changes his hair and eyes to something he's been practising for a while. Hermione's high-pitched squeal when she sees his hair – longer, slightly lighter brown, and as curly as hers – hurts his ears but he's grinning too hard to mind it when she says he looks like he could be her brother, especially since his eyes are also dark brown.
She asks how he does it and sighs when he tells her it's a bloodline thing and not every wix can do it, but Mr Wright distracts her by saying that if she gets good at transfiguration when they go to magic school, she can do the same too. They don't ask why he's in disguise since Harry explained to Hermione that he's sort of famous because of how his parents died and he didn't, and she probably told her parents too.
Showing Diagon Alley to Hermione almost makes Harry forget how Mr Wright had vanished into his office for almost three days. His best friend squeezes his hand so tight it kind of hurts and she's got the biggest grin on her face, her head swinging from one side to the other like she's trying not to miss anything while they walk to the bank. Mr Granger almost picks her up to keep her from dragging them to Flourish and Blotts, and she asks so many questions that he's not even sure how his dad is managing to answer them all.
Harry pokes her side so she bows back to the goblins at the door – she does it but immediately asks why they do that and Harry struggles through explaining that it's just a thing they do because it's polite, like their version of shaking hands – and Mr Wright leaves them with a teller to exchange non-magical money for the magic kind while he goes somewhere – he doesn't tell and Harry doesn't ask, figuring he's got a vault by now and maybe went to get some money to spend – before coming back a few minutes later.
Hermione wants to rush to the books, Mrs Granger wants to stop at a little jewellery stall and Mr Granger is curious about the potions shop, but they compromise on going from the closest to the bank to the furthest. That leaves the bookshop for last, which makes Hermione pout, but she gets distracted by the potions a few minutes later, asking questions faster than Harry can even think about the answers.
Mr Wright keeps answering them, and it makes sense with all the books he's been reading since finding out about magic, though Harry didn't know he'd read about potions too besides all the law books Ms Lei gave him. He pays attention to all of it, though he knows he'll forget some by the time he actually needs to know this stuff in school, and tries not to laugh when his dad gets into an argument – a polite one, not anything like Uncle Vernon might have done – with one of the other people buying from the store. The man's got a crooked-looking face and hair tied in a low ponytail like some girls do – or like Mr Malfoy if he tied his hair, though not nearly as long – and looks like he's even enjoying the argument, though Hermione interrupts it with a question that makes the man give her an annoyed look and they end up leaving not long after.
Harry points out Pilliwinkle's Playthings to Hermione, telling her it's where he got the toy dragon and the magic train set, so they stop by the store to take a look. He knows she likes books more than toys, so he's a bit surprised when she buys a stuffed black cat, though it's a moving one and when she holds it out telling him to feel the fur, he pets its head and the toy starts purring. Cool. Harry leaves the store with another stuffed dragon, one that spits fire except it's just colourful smoke, a gift from Mr Wright who didn't want Pearl – who got her name because she reminded him of one of Aunt Petunia's necklaces – to be lonely. This dragon is bigger than Pearl though, and dark brown nearly black, so Harry calls him Brownie. It makes Mr Wright chuckle for some reason.
They stay so long in the bookstore with Hermione having him carry books for her that Harry thinks he might be turning into a bookshelf soon, though she rolls her eyes at him when he tells her that. He shows her all the books he has that help understand magical people, like the ones that teach how to be polite and the ones they sell to muggle-borns explaining stuff like owls and the Hogwarts Express, plus some story books he thinks she'll like even though wizards don't have a lot of those. Mr and Mrs Granger don't look too worried about the growing pile, so Harry figures dentists must make a lot of money.
The trip to Pick-A-Book doesn't take as long since most of their stock are books from Hogwarts that old students gave away, but it's starting to get dark out when they leave the second-hand book shop. They stop at the tea shop near the exit of the alley when Mrs Granger sees something about telling the future and they end up having a snack there even though Mr Wright doesn't look too happy about it. The lady serving them, Madam Clare, looks at their tea leaves and says they tell her things, which Harry thinks is a bit silly since tea doesn't talk. She still says that Mr Granger should be careful next week, Mrs Granger will find something that's gone missing, and Hermione has a disagreement in her future. When she looks at Harry's tea, she frowns a bit, and he can't help but be curious.
"What's it say?" Harry asks, because silly or not he still wants to know.
"It's not very clear," She tells them, though it's not like her other predictions were too clear either. "A big upheaval is coming," Harry frowns and then nods when Hermione whispers in his ear that it means change, "Things might change, but they still stay the same, you'll be just fine dear, remember that."
Harry just hums in agreement and decides Divination sounds a lot like the daily horoscopes in the papers.
"I'd rather not," Mr Wright tells her when she reaches for his cup, and she narrows her eyes at him.
"It's not the future you're afraid of, is it?" Her look softens while his dad frowns. "No, it's the past repeating itself," she blinks, eyes widening a bit as if she's surprised, then shakes her head slightly and pats his hand, "It won't, not if you learn from it."
She's gone just as suddenly as she appeared, "She sounds like a motivational book," Mr Granger decides and they chuckle, not disagreeing.
By the time Harry makes it back home, he's forgotten all about it.
November 27th, 1988
"I'm not apologizing," It's the first thing he says once the portrait is back in place.
Sal just looks at him, the same look from centuries ago when he'd closed himself up in his room with locking and silencing runes for five days until he managed to rune-bind a sword not to lose sharpness. If anything ever said 'I'm disappointed but not surprised', this look is it.
"I don't expect you to," his brother assures, a knowing look in his eyes, "but you may want to ward your bedroom similarly instead of moving into your office whenever you need constant privacy."
… fair point, he admits to himself and makes a mental note to get it done soon.
"I went to the bank yesterday," He says instead, not subtly but still changing the subject as he picks up the white wooden box – retrieved from the Slytherin vault the day before – from the desk. "You think it might work for him?"
"He's blood of your blood," Sal replies simply, "we both know that's a lot more complicated when it comes to you."
Merlin can only sigh, lacking any counterargument.
He opens the box, eyes flicking to the content within. The wand lying on a red fabric could be mistaken for a fallen tree branch from afar, with its slight curve and the small burr near the handle, but looking at it closely leaves no doubt that the thirteen-inch piece of wood is a carefully crafted wand with discretely carved runes scattered through the spiral-like slightly darker part of its length.
He remembers painstakingly drawing each one of them over and over, hidden within various failed designs, before selecting the correct wood to work with. He should have expected the wand with an Old Dragon's scale for a core would accept no other wood than a fallen branch from the Rowan tree at the centre of the Isle of The Blessed, but his efforts were sufficiently repaid when the magical focus finally bonded with his magic and did not possess its predecessors' propensity to explode at any minor spell channelled through it.
It had served him well while blending in with other magic users, and he hoped it would serve his son – and he's still not over that particular realization, he has a son – just the same. He absently picks it up off the box, frowning at the lack of connection. The absence of his magic now that he has the memory of it feels as it always has, like a limb is missing or one of his senses has been dulled to nothingness, but he's experienced it so often that it's no longer as noticeable as the first few times. Still, he will need to retrieve it sometime soon, maybe if he can arrange for Harry to spend the weekend at a friend's house. It's dangerous to remain in the magical world without the proper means to defend himself, no matter what he knows squibs are capable of. He could risk his unending life by using runes and potions, but he's not about to put Harry's safety on the line for the sake of proving a point.
Placing the wand back in the box, he goes to call Harry into the office.
The kid seems surprised at the invitation, which has him hiding a grimace. Merlin had been too deep into his own head to notice it for the past few days but it's now clear that his momentary isolation has affected Harry, even if it's not too overtly noticeable. He regrets it some, but knows he needed the space to come to terms with the current situation, to let his memories as Michael settle as another fragmented part of himself as a whole and accept that these are the decisions he'd made with what he had been given at the time.
He doesn't regret Harry, though. It had been easy, once he'd finished organising his mind, to go back to the moment he met those wide green eyes from across the room as the kid left the goddamn cupboard he'd been locked into. There was a noticeable pull there, which he figures Michael may have felt even while lacking any magic of his own. It's not something he's felt before, not entirely, but it's slightly similar to what he felt when Kilgarrah called for him, at least if it could be done unintentionally. It speaks of some sort of kin, though obviously not the dragon kind, and he wonders if regaining his magic might change his perception of it. He doesn't feel the same pull in any of the memories after the first, as if it had only meant to pique his interest that once, but he's still glad for it.
Harry is a surprisingly bright kid, who was dealt a bad hand by fate, and the thought of the boy's possible future without his interference is enough to make him want to pull the child into a tight hug for at least a whole day. While it's true that Merlin had purposefully embedded into the ritual the lack of want for a child, too scared of the prospect of outliving any possible offspring, he's no longer reeling from the revelation that his magic hadn't quite accounted for the adopted kind and can't find it in himself to regret it either way, not when he remembers the boy's grateful eyes and tearful hugs and pleading requests for him not to leave. The thought of handing Harry's care off to another guardian is painful and one he puts out of his mind after the first time it crosses it. For better or worse, this is his son now, and he'll stay by his side for as long as the child will have him.
"Good morning, Harry," Sal greets the child who offers the portrait a small smile, "I believe your father has something for you."
The kid's eyes fill with surprise and confusion as Harry looks back at him, "But I already got a gift?"
"Well," he starts, picking up the once again closed white box, "this isn't exactly a gift," he can tell the exact moment it clicks in the boy's mind, leaving his eyes wider, though they turn downcast at an alarming rate. "Hey, it's okay if it doesn't work, but Sal thought it was worth giving it a try."
Harry looks back up with a slight frown, glancing between the portrait – who gives an encouraging nod – and Merlin, before shrugging. "Now?"
Merlin remembers Lei's instructions to only attempt magic with someone who has it, but he knows for a fact that his wand's rejection isn't likely to hurt Harry if he doesn't try to use it against its will. "If you want to," he replies, leaving the choice open.
His son fidgets with his hands for a moment in thought before reaching for the box, which he promptly hands over. Harry opens it with the same care he afforded his heir ring, looking at it for a moment before reaching into it and pulling out the wand. The reaction is instantaneous, a few golden sparks leaving its tip, their reflection lighting up Harry's eyes in a similar colour.
"Oh," the kid breathes out with a slowly widening smile and Merlin can't help but feel the absence of his magic much more keenly for a moment.
A glance toward his brother's portrait makes him pause at the significant look aimed at him and pointed motion toward the child. What? He mouths back and raises his brows slightly in question, unsure of what Sal is trying to communicate.
"Congratulations Harry," Sal offers with a smile, making the kid direct his grin at the portrait instead. "How about trying a spell, then?"
"Can I?" Harry turns toward him with an expression that's too excited to be pleading but seems to do its job all the same.
"A simple one," he warns the portrait, who surely remembers he still doesn't have any magic to fix any casting mishaps.
"Of course," his brother's tone somehow conveys an eye-roll without him having to do so, "there's no wand movement needed for this one, just say the word and imagine a small sphere of light, like a lamp without the glass."
That's not- He frowns, narrowing his eyes at the portrait, quite aware of what spell his brother is describing. He also knows Harry won't be able to do it… will he? No, that was just a reflection. He hadn't-
"The word is leoht," Sal continues, and Harry nods before holding the wand in front of himself and repeating it perfectly.
Merlin barely pays the marble-sized orb of light glowing at the tip of the wand any mind, not when his eyes are pulled toward bright green ones which are now shining like molten gold.
Fucking hell.
So that's why his brother was looking at him like that.
"I did it!" Harry's excited tone is enough to bring him back to the moment and he returns the child's smile with one of his own, hiding the inner turmoil plaguing him at the sight of his son's obvious use of magic mirroring his own.
"Well done," Merlin compliments, focusing on Harry and avoiding his brother's continued pointed looks.
Unfortunately, this isn't something he can ignore. If Harry can do his kind of magic, he'll need all the training he can get, who knows if he inherited the lack of control that Merlin had as a child as well? It could be dangerous if left to develop on its own.
But how is he supposed to explain Old Magic and his knowledge of it without revealing himself? And does he even want to keep secrets from the kid? It will surely be easier to reveal his past now than once Harry becomes more immersed in the magical world, and… he's had enough of lying to his loved ones to last several lifetimes, hasn't he? It's better to avoid repeating the past, if given the chance, so that only leaves him one choice.
"Harry…" He starts hesitantly, not wanting to curtail the excitement over magic but needing to do this now instead of during the week since it will give Harry the rest of the day and a night to process before going to school on Monday. "Something happened that I think you should know about. Can we sit down for a bit?"
Harry looks at him, thankfully just curious instead of looking nervous, and puts the wand away with a small hum of agreement, hugging the boxed wand close as he moves to sit on the chair facing the desk.
Merlin takes a seat on his own chair behind the desk, trying to figure out how to word what needs to be said. "I think a story about a time long ago would be the best way to start," he admits, "It will make sense in the end, I promise, but it might take a while."
His son nods with a cute attempt at a serious look, "Okay."
"I suppose… it all started in a little village called Ealdor," He begins because out of any other start, this is the one closest to his heart. He could explain from the beginning of the purge or his arrival on Camelot, but recounting how his mother turned away from her child's golden eyes toward the window only to spot a merlin falcon landing by it and name the baby after it only felt right.
He doesn't linger in Ealdor for long, of course. He explains only the necessary, how magic was forbidden and Merlin was sent away to learn control from Gaius in Camelot, how he met a prince and a dragon and a destiny written decades before his birth. Their adventures over many years are easily summed up by mentioning that the warlock usually saved the prince's life without his knowledge and they gathered some friends over the years to help with that. When his explanation reaches the final battle, he tries not to choke on his words as he recounts the prince's final words to Merlin and how the warlock sent his other half into Avalon.
Harry doesn't interrupt much other than to ask for small explanations – what was the name of the dragon? Why were people trying to kill the prince? – seeming immersed in the tale being weaved in front of him. Merlin recounts a little of the years after the prince's death – Guinevere's reign and the slow repeal of the magical ban – as well as the moment he realised the years were failing to change him. He explains that the warlock chose to go away, leaving out that it only happened after druids were starting to inhabit the citadel, only to be accompanied by one of the few round table knights left – Percival, he replies to his son's question – in his trip to the Lake of Avalon.
His tone is forcefully kept even as he recounts Freya's words to the warlock – Avalon is closed to you, Merlin. I'm sorry. – and doesn't go into much detail when the story reaches his first real death at the hands of a wannabe conqueror hoping to make himself into the Once and Future King by kidnapping Emrys, only highlighting that the warlock was struck a deathly blow and somehow remained in the land of the living after the fact.
He doesn't mention that he sometimes still hears the goading whispers calling him kingmaker in his sleep.
It's as if he can't stop now that he's opened the dam, and the words just keep pouring out. He tries his best to make them concise and only barely brushes a couple of incidents such as a group of druids luring him into a sacrifice – to be fair, he doesn't quite remember a great part of it, having died again and all that – in an attempt to take the reigns of their fate, as if he'd asked to be born with this power in the first place. He mentions that the warlock ran into a fellow immortal – His name is Leon, Merlin informs anticipating Harry's question – and eventually taught him magic at his request; they found a tribe that practised some magic he'd never seen before – his first experience with runes – and stayed with them for a while; Merlin married and had children and lived well until they all started to die and leave him behind; the warlock left and found a dragon that had been missing for a while – Aithusa, it means light of the sun in the dragon language, he explains – and helped it reach its full potential after having grown up stunted, getting an idea of his own after having to de-age the dragon to undo the damage.
He slows down as he recounts in a few phrases how the first few lives of the de-aged warlock with no memories went, with more accidental deaths than he would have liked, and skips many of them that aren't quite relevant to the story at hand, only mentioning that one time the warlock was found under an Ash tree by Salazar Slytherin's mother and eventually blood-adopted as Ash Slytherin. Harry seems to remember that was the name of the old Slytherin Lord by the way his eyes widen, and Merlin goes on to mention how the kid was a squib – he tries not to wince when his son points out that Michael was like him – and learned rune magic to keep up with his travelling brother, but snuck out of the magically isolated village one time and was caught doing it – a healing ritual of all things – and then killed for it.
Merlin pointedly doesn't look at the portrait as he mentions the warlock waking up at the Crystal Cave as he'd weaved into the ritual for his body to do so after a certain level of damage – Harry compares it to a videogame checkpoint and he chuckles because what else is there to do but laugh at his own misery, crying never solved anything – and spending a while reorganizing his memories before going to look for his brother because he had to see what happened, he had to know if Salazar came back from his latest travel safely. He doesn't mention what actually happened once he came back, how he found out that Salazar was hunting down all that dared see a child burn for the sin of witchcraft, laying waste to the neighbouring village with sword and wand alike. He doesn't say that the only thing that made him interfere was the sight of molten gold in his brother's eyes as he raged against the loss of his little brother with wind and fire bending to his will against those who would see him burn as well. Instead, he explains that the warlock revealed the truth to his brother and got to know him as himself instead.
Few facts are relevant after that, and he doesn't touch on the subject of Hogwarts much besides short mentions of meeting the other founders – he'll admit to himself that, bypassing his clear bias for his brother, Helga had been his favourite – and helping them secure a location to serve as a haven for their various apprentices. He skips ahead, instead, to the warlock's return from his latest life in the US. Nathan had lived to see his fiftieth year before perishing for the sin of doing his job properly no matter the colour of people's skin, which may no longer be lethal but certainly was in the forties. Merlin had remained in the States for a while longer, adding a discrete magical touch to the civil rights movement from the sidelines – as he firmly believes that whether it's due to their skin colour, gender or ability to do magic, no person shouldn't be treated as lesser – but made his way back to the UK in the 60's, where a fortunate meeting during the plane ride back helped him choose where to start his next life.
The warlock located the immortal knight – he tells Harry – and Leon had luckily been on the same continent, still willing to help him with his ritual, still waiting with a word of caution against running from the past. Once again, Merlin locked away his memories and siphoned his magic into the Crystal Cave, going through the de-ageing as he had many times before, and leaving Leon with the job of wrapping the resulting baby in blankets with the brooch of Ygraine de Bois' sigil fastened to it and delivering him to the correct doorstep; that of Joan Wright née Morgan.
"They named him Michael," Merlin relayed cautiously, watching for Harry's reaction. "Michael Ian Wright, but he changed it to Michael Morgan-Wright after his parents' divorce."
"You can change your name?" It's the first thing that leaves Harry's mouth after the revelation, leaving him unsure of whether the eight-year-old truly understood the story presented to him.
"Yes, you can, but… Harry, do you understand what I've just told you?" He enquired in a more serious tone, wondering if he'd maybe overestimated the child's comprehension ability.
"I think so?" Harry replied with a slight shrug, eyes avoiding his. "Do I– should I call you Merlin?"
He can only stare for a moment, blinking in astonishment at the easy acceptance. This isn't what he expected at all, and he doesn't quite know what to do with it. "I don't plan on telling anyone, so it's better not."
"Why-" his son seems to hesitate, fidgeting in place before speaking again in an unsure tone, "You told me. Why?"
Merlin didn't expect to bring this up right then, figuring the previous revelation might be too much already. Still, Harry seems to be taking it well, so there shouldn't be any harm in informing him fully. "When you touched the wand, and when you did magic right then, it wasn't quite the same magic as most witches and wizards," he finally admits out loud. "Your eyes glowed gold, just like mine," he pauses and adds sheepishly, "when I have my magic, I mean."
"They did?" Said eyes, now entirely green and no less bright, widen. "So my magic's different?"
"You still have the same magic as you did before," he's quick to assure, having experienced something similar with Salazar before and knowing it hadn't fundamentally affected his brother's ability to perform the more common form of wand magic "but a little extra something, too. And I'll have to train you if we want to keep it a secret."
"Oh," Merlin can't quite read the child's tone, but Harry is quick to nod in understanding before looking up right past his shoulder, "Um- I'm tired. Can I take a nap before lunch?"
"Of course," He smiles slightly. "Leave the wand, we'll have it here for your tutoring sessions. I'll call you when the food's ready."
His son mumbles a quick agreement under his breath as he slides from the chair and shuffles toward the door, leaving the wand behind and closing the door after himself.
"... Alright then," Merlin says to himself with a sigh. The revelation may have taken a little more out of his son than he was able to tell, but he's not too worried about it. The nap will probably help.
Heh, did anyone see that coming? I think a few did if I remember the comments right.
Pilliwinkle's Playthings is supposed to give Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium vibes btw. It sells things like Fairy-chasing kits with nets and glowing (fake) fairies that fly out of reach, self-rocking hobby horses, moving figurines, always-bouncing balls, animated stuffed toys, baby-safe wands that blow bubbles, hugging teddy bears, infinite-railway - Hogwarts-themed! - train sets etc.
The AO3 version of this chapter has a photo of Merlin's wand, which is now in Harry's possession.
For anyone curious, here's what canon says about Rowan wands:
"Rowan wands generally produced powerful, hard-to-break Defensive Charms. This reputation for protection made it a prized wand wood. Rowan wands were also noted for its believed disassociation with the Dark Arts. Rowan is most happily placed with the clear-headed and the pure-hearted, though Ollivander noted that this reputation for virtue ought not to fool anyone – these wands frequently equally matched, and even out-performed others in duels."