This took a hot minute, huh? Oh well, life happened, my uncle died, I got busy, my laptop broke, but hey, it's finally here!
Anyway, if you read my notes, you might be aware that this story doesn't quite have a full plot and is more of a make-it-up-as-I-go kind of thing with very few planned scenes along the way. With that said... boy did I have an epiphany right before starting to write this chapter. This was not how I thought this story would go but I can't help but want to see where it leads.
As soon as he can feel the ground again, Harry scrambles away from the hand gripping his arm and falls on all fours, puking out the little food he'd managed to eat that morning. His head feels like the time Dudley pushed him so hard on the playground spinner he hadn't managed to get up without the world feeling topsy-turvy for a while, and his throat hurts from trying to throw up more than he's got on his belly, and he's too scared to look up because someone's just kidnapped him off the street – that's what Dad said it's called if he goes with strangers but not because he wanted to – and what if they get mad that he puked all over their floor?
"That's why I don't let you side-along me," a woman's voice says somewhere behind him and Harry looks over in time to see a woman with very short hair and matching robes to the men that grabbed him walking into the room. The room that's not the road he'd been on. Harry's been apparated before, but it didn't feel like that.
"Don't you have a job to do, Fye?" The man next to him says, sounding annoyed, and then a hand grabs Harry's arm again and pulls him to his feet.
"I'm on my way to it, Dear" The way she says it doesn't sound like when Dad does, more like she's making fun of him. Harry's eyes meet hers – they're weird, he's never seen eyes look like metal before, they're shiny and silver – and she continues, "That's a child, not a prisoner." there's a wand in her hand the next second and then the vomit vanishes from the floor and Harry's mouth feels a bit tingly and less yucky. "Ease up," she warns before spinning on the spot and disappearing with a crack.
The hand on his arm gets a bit tighter before it's gone, "Follow me, Mr Potter," the man says, walking past him. He's got brown hair, a beard, and a scowl on his face that makes Harry rush to follow even though he doesn't want to.
"Who're you?" Harry asks, trying to keep up on his short legs. "I want my dad!" He adds, remembering the crowd, the spells, and the order to run. "Where's my dad?"
"Quiet," The man orders and Harry closes his mouth with a flinch, looking around instead. The room outside of the empty one they'd shown up in is just a big corridor, though it's weirdly round instead of square like rooms should be, at least as far as he knows. The floor, walls, and ceiling all look the same, covered with dark tiles, though the ceiling and walls have lots of glowing gold symbols that keep changing like they're being erased and written again every time Harry blinks.
They pass a bunch of gates that are sort of sunk into the rounded wall – he can't tell what's behind them even after he squints through his glasses – and then stop at a bigger, golden gate at what looks like the end of the corridor. The man does something with his wand and the gate opens, enough for them to go through it even though it almost closes on Harry's heels. The man walks to the right of the gate and then vanishes into a wall. Harry can only stop and stare, eyes wide and looking around for where he could have gone.
A hand suddenly comes out of the wall and grabs his arm, pulling him into it, and he closes his eyes with a yelp, bringing his other arm up so his face won't hit the wall. "Oh for Merlin's sake-" He hears the man grumble and slowly puts his arm down, realizing he also went right through the wall and they're now in a different room.
There's more people there, and another gate too, but this one gets opened by a lady on the other side of it, who holds out her hand to the man pulling Harry along and gets the man's wand for a moment before doing something and handing it right back.
"Cathmore," someone says and Harry looks away from the woman's paper-filled desk right by the gate and at whoever spoke. It was a bald, dark-skinned man in robes like the ones the man pulling him is wearing, and he's walking toward them.
"Kingsley," The man replies, so Harry figures those are their names. "Here," he pretty much pushes Harry at the man and he nearly trips over his feet, but Mr Kingsley reaches out a hand to help him stay up. "Don't let him wander off 'til the hearing."
Mr Cathmore doesn't even wait for a response before walking right back through the still open gate and into the wall that's not a wall.
"Come along, Mr Potter," Mr Kingsley tells him, but he doesn't grab his arm or push him to walk faster so Harry takes a deep breath — they haven't hurt him yet, his dad's not around, he can't really do anything other than what they say — and nods, following a step behind while they walk out of the room.
There's a big corridor on the other side, tall enough to maybe fit his house inside, with lots of large wooden doors on both sides. Mr Kingsley walks past a couple of doors before stopping in front of a smaller one he almost hadn't noticed and opening it, waiting for Harry to get inside before closing it behind them. Harry looks around the room, noticing it's a big office with a big desk and chair in one corner and some other armchairs and a couch around a center table like the ones in Ms Lei's house, and a tall curtain in one of the walls.
"Please take a seat, Mr Potter," Mr Kingsley tells him, but he doesn't want to sit down. He wants to leave and find his dad, but he doesn't know where he is and all this time not knowing what's going on is making him want to throw up, or cry, or run — or maybe there's something running inside his belly, at least it feels like it — so he doesn't sit down and instead glares up at the adult still standing in front of the door.
"Where's here?" He doesn't like that he sounds a bit like Dudley with how whiny his voice goes but he doesn't know these people who apparated him away from the middle of the street and he wants his dad! "Who're you? Where's my dad?"
"Mr Potter- Harry," He sounds sad, why? "Your father, he- he passed away. I'm sorry." Mr Kingsley kneels in front of him but Harry's too busy shaking his head to step away.
"No, he didn't!" Harry insists, almost choking when his voice gets too high, "Dad's not dead! He can't- he's not!" He didn't lie! He reminds himself. Dad doesn't lie, and he's Merlin, and Merlin can't die, so Dad's not dead.
"I'm sorry," Mr Kingsley repeats like he doesn't know any other words and Harry stomps on the ground, wanting to run but he knows they'd catch him and there's nowhere to run to until his dad comes to get him because he's not dead! "I know it's difficult to understand, but-"
"He's not dead!" Harry insists, crossing his arms and hiding a sniffle. He won't let these people make him believe his dad's gone, no way. "Dad'll come get me, you'll see."
Mr Kingsley takes a deep breath, looks at the ceiling, and then back at him again. "Okay, Mr Potter," he says, and Harry's glad that the strange man agrees with what he knows is true. "Then why don't we sit down and wait?"
Harry takes a deep breath, then another one, and then nods.
He doesn't mind waiting.
Merlin comes to with a gasp, scrambling to his feet more out of urgency — he needs to get to Harry! — than actual awareness of his surroundings, uncoordinated limbs nearly causing him to sprawl right back on the carved stone floor of the familiar cave he's found himself back in. The need to get to his son is probably what keeps him from realizing, for the fraction of a second it takes him to stand up, that he's whole again.
The tears well up unbidden at the feeling of life coursing through him, the awareness of every speck of magic inside the cave nearly overwhelming after having once again lived many years without it, and the customary wonder of why he would ever give up such a thing monopolizes his mind for a moment before everything manages to go back into focus.
Despite the worry for Harry, he can't help the grin on his face.
I'm back.
Welcome back, Emrys. A voice unlike his own interrupts his thoughts, echoing in his mind as he looks around in search of its origin in the low light of the Crystal Cave.
"Who's there?" He asks, because it's not a voice he can recognize from any previous encounters.
I'm afraid it is not your fate to meet me at this time, the voice comes again as if from every corner of the cave even though he knows, from the lack of an echo, that it's all inside his head.
It sounds… vaguely female, and not noticeably young but lacking the slight raspiness of an old person's voice, which still leaves too many possibilities to consider.
He takes in a calming breath, chances another look around — nothing, as expected, except for the slight call of the gleaming crystal shards embedded into the walls and ground — "Alright," he quips, deciding that he really doesn't have the time for mysterious disembodied voices when his kid might be thinking that he's dead at this exact moment. Actually, he has no idea how much time has passed, which only increases the need to simply leave.
Merlin turns on the balls of his feet, with little consideration for the tattered state of his ripped and bloody clothes, and starts heading toward the exit of the cave.
Not so fast, the voice quips and a wind cold enough to give him shivers brushes against his skin as if passing through him, making him halt his steps. First, you must see.
It takes him a moment to realize what they mean but he eventually shakes his head in denial, pointedly staring down at his feet and away from the crystal-covered walls, "not happening. I need to go."
Must you be so stubborn? It chides with a distinct lack of annoyance, as if whatever entity decided to accost him in the birthplace of magic already knew what to expect and was anything but surprised.
"There's no point in seeing the future," he insists, having already learned his lesson about attempting to change it, and marches on.
Except when there is, the voice insists and something thin, cold and invisible grabs a hold of his chin, forcibly raising his head as a bone-chilling wind pushes him toward a wall and he can't help but raise his hands to minimize the impact, just in time for his eyes to catch on a small figure reflected in one of the crystals. See.
"Harry?" He gasps, stepping back slightly as his stomach turns to stone at the sight of his son being involved in whatever the crystals want to show him. "No, not him, please-"
See, the voice repeats, and he does.
Three knocks on the door make Harry look up from the book he'd curled up with on the couch while waiting, and whoever knocked doesn't wait long before opening the door.
"Madam Bones," Mr Kingsley stands up from the chair behind the desk, but Harry doesn't move from his spot, not even when the lady walking in — she's got a uniform like Mr Kingsley's so she probably works with him — just nods at Mr Kingsley then looks at him instead.
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr Potter," she tells him and he glares at her.
"My dad's not dead," he lets her know, trying not to be too annoyed that no one's told her yet, maybe only he knows? Dad said Merlin's a secret, but he doesn't die! So… they're talking about just Mr Wright without the Merlin part? "He'll come get me," he insists anyway, because he will.
The two adults trade a look and Harry looks back down at his book. Mr Kingsley had let him pick one from the bookshelf in the corner, It's called Gamp's Guide to the British Wizengamot and it's got a bunch of strange words — like all the books he found so he just picked one at random — but Hermione can probably explain them to him, so he's trying to remember all of it to tell her later.
"Mr Potter," the lady's kneeling in front of the couch now, he didn't even notice her moving. She's pretty, but her frown makes her look like one of Harry's old teachers. "Michael Wright was hit by many fatal spells," there's a noise from Mr Kingsley but a look from the lady — is she really called Bones? — keeps him quiet. "There was nothing anyone could do. He's dead, Mr Potter, I'm sorry." He looks up at that just to glare at her again, but she doesn't stop talking. "Which means you'll need to live with someone else, and that's why my Aurors brought you here, do you understand?"
She doesn't sound like when Dad or Ms Lei are explaining something to him, more like when one of his old teachers just decided something was his fault and tried to explain why he was being punished. She doesn't really want him to understand.
"Mr Wright's dead," he mumbles back even if he doesn't agree, "so you're getting Ms Lei?"
"Who would that be, Mr Potter?" She asks and he frowns.
"Lei Chang," he says like she taught him, "Is my magical guardian and legal res- represtative."
"Representative," Ms Bones corrects with a little smile and a nod, "I'll attempt to contact her, then. Kingsley will stay with you until she gets here," she looks around the room, "I'll get someone to bring you some snacks."
A broom jerks wildly as a boy clings on
A growling beast in the dark
A mirror and its reflection
A trap laid in flames
A hand burns to dust
Fingers clench around a blood-red stone
A spider scuttles away
A book drinks in any ink that touches it
A serpent's yellow gaze inches closer
A sword gleams in trembling hands
A fang sinks into flesh
Familiar features twist into rage with the start of a curse
A spectral dog vanishes in mist
A breathless stumble on frozen ground
A hand trembles over a rat
A wand raised in betrayal
A howl splits the night
Claws and fangs flash under the pale moon
A dragon roars
A lone figure on a trembling broom as fire surges
A ripple in murky water
A twisting maze's walls continuously shift
A circle of wands
A spectral whisper
A desperate retreat
Lifeless eyes staring up from the ground
A silent corridor
A veil flutters
A duel of light and shadow
A scream swallowed by the void
A serpent strikes
A figure writhes on marble
A whisper of possession
Momentary surrender
A silver blade slices water
A tower's peak
A wand aimed
An oath whispered
A scream trapped in silence
A green flash of inevitability
The fall
A house explodes in fire
A snake lunges in the dark
A forest stills
A woman's voice
A green flash
A body crumples onto leaves
A wand raised in defiance
A final curse
Victory
But at what cost?
He sits up with a jump at the noise, looking at the door while Mr Kingsley went to open it. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but his book is on the couch next to him and there's a fluffy blue blanket on top of his legs, so it might have been some time ago.
"Harry?" He blinks, looks around and grabs his glasses from on top of the open book before almost launching himself at the woman he now recognized.
"Ms Lei!" Nearly tripping over the blanket, he somehow manages not to fall face-first on the ground, though that's probably because Ms Lei catches him halfway and pulls him close.
Harry knows he just woke up but he still feels tired, so he just hides his face on her robes instead of saying anything else. Ms Lei will make sure everything's fine now.
"I've got you, it's okay," she whispers over his head. "Let's get going, alright?"
There's a sound of someone clearing their throat and the voice he remembers being Mr Kingsley's speaks, "But the hearing-"
"Which hearing?" Ms Lei asks in a low but hard tone. "Surely not a custody hearing? I'm his lawful magical guardian, after all."
"Still," Mr Kingsley insists, "He's-"
"A child who just lost his father and will not spend another moment here," Ms Lei interrupts. "Unless you're detaining him?"
"No one's being detained," this time it's another woman speaking and Harry leans back a little to see who it is, spotting Ms Bones standing in the doorway. "You're free to leave, Madam Chang."
"Thank you, Madam Bones." Ms Lei looks down at him for a moment before running a hand through his hair. "Ready to go, Harry?"
"Mhm," he nods, slipping his hand into hers and letting her guide him back into the maze-like building.
It doesn't take long for them to reach the elevator, exit on level eight and make their way to a floo connection.
"Chang Chambers," he calls and steps into the fireplace.
Merlin allows his trembling legs to lower him to the ground, one hand rubbing against his eyes now pressed closed after being bombarded with so many visions in close succession. "Why?" he whispers.
When no response is forthcoming, he raises his voice. "Why did you want me to see that? I didn't want to know!"
And yet, now you know.
"I won't let it happen!" He insists, eyes open and narrowed in determination. It might be helpless, but- he hadn't been in any of the visions. They can't possibly be true.
He refuses to believe he'd ever let his son fight without him by his side.
Exactly.
The almost glad tone catches him off-guard and he can't help but ask once more, "Who are you?" As he climbs back to his feet, eyes no longer avoiding the crystals now that their call is almost nonexistent but still failing to find any other presence in the interior of the cave.
An interested party, it whispers with a final brush of cold air against his skin.
He's suddenly as aware of its absence as he had been of its presence.
With a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and walks out of the cave and into the forest. It takes a few minutes to reach the edge of the wards but as soon as he does, the already frigid wind picks up around him, stirring the snow-covered soil as he's quickly whisked away from the location.
Harry's feet barely touch the floor on the other side of the floo before he's being squeezed by thin arms and almost swallowing a tuft of black hair as Cho pulls him in a hug.
"Are you okay?" She's off of him, grabbing the side of his arms, as fast as she appeared and he almost stumbles back from all the movement. "Mama said you got attacked!"
"I-I'm fine," he mumbles, not sure what she wants him to say.
"Cho, let him into the house first," Ms Lei chides from behind them and shoos them into the living room.
In a flurry of movement he doesn't pay much attention to, Harry finds himself curled up on a comfy couch, a mug of hot chocolate on his hand and leaning on Mr Chris while Cho cuddles close to his other side. The hot chocolate's moving- or maybe it's his hands, and he can't quite breathe in right, but that's okay.
Dad's gonna come get him, and it'll be fine.
His eyes meet saddened green ones in a portrait as he appears in the center of his office.
"How did it happen?" Salazar is quick to ask, immediately followed by, "where's Harry?"
"He's fine," Merlin replies, because he refuses to believe otherwise. "But it was very visible," he adds with a small wince.
Under the low simmering rage over those wizards daring to attack him when he was with his son is an undercurrent of annoyance at how inconvenient it is that his identity as Michael is well and truly dead.
"What now?" His brother prompts as he shuffles through the drawers of the office in search of where he'd stored his wand after Harry's last tutoring session.
"I'll cast a locator spell and get Harry back," he informs as if it's obvious, because it should be.
"No you won't" Sal rebuts and he turns to him with a glare, "don't look at me like that, take a minute to think things through. Don't fall into bad habits, little brother." What? "Deep breath, now." he reflexively obeys the stern command, "There you go, the office didn't do anything to deserve a trashing."
Many thumps from all around the office startle him into looking around, realizing he'd let his magic go a little out of control with his emotions and made many objects float in place before they fell back as he controlled his breathing.
Great, now there's that too.
"He saw it, Sal." He explains through gritted teeth.
His brother's portrait grimaces at that, looking as angry as Merlin currently feels. "Still, take a moment," he insists. "Where should he be right now?"
"I- Ministry? Maybe? Unless he's been kidnapped-" He reasons, starting to feel even more anxious about the attack. What if that had been the objective all along? What if-
"Locator spell, then?" Sal drags his mind back to the present. "Just do it old-school, Merlin."
"That's the plan," he says, pretending he hadn't been a hairsbreadth away from panic just a second earlier and going back to looking through the drawers again, this time pulling out a folded piece of paper that he unfolds into a large map on top of his desk.
He makes sure the paper is completely flat, moving things from under it, before grabbing the letter opener and making a quick cut into his palm, letting the blood pool in the centre of the map. "Séce mín cnōsl!" he orders, watching as the blood puddles together before a small line starts to leave the puddle and run through the map of London in search of the correct location.
The sight of the spell working makes him doubly glad for the blood adoption, since otherwise he may have needed more than his own blood to track down his son. It doesn't take long for it to stop in a familiar region, and the sight of Harry's current location being the general Belgravia area fills him with enough relief that he allows himself to drop into his chair with a deep sigh.
"Lei's got him," he informs his brother with a small smile, glad for that particular friendship.
"Good," Sal voices their common thought. "Then there's time to plan," at his incredulous look, his brother raises one doubting brow, "unless the plan is to eliminate the threat with prejudice? I simply thought you'd rather Harry still be able to attend Hogwarts in the future."
"Just because you have a point doesn't mean I have to like it," Merlin grumbles, especially since eliminating the threat would be a little difficult when he hadn't quite seen who cast some of the spells. Rita Skeeter, though? She'll have to go, and soon.
"Story of our lives," his brother teases, earning a slight twitch of his lips in response. "Now, I may have a suggestion…"
"Of course you do," He still turns to his brother expectantly, not about to turn down the tactician's help when it comes to the welfare of their family.
They'll pay for crossing him, it just might take a little longer than he'd prefer.
Believe me, I had negative plans to give Merlin any sort of vision or insight toward the future and I have absolutely no clue where this will lead but hey, we'll follow that road together XD.
By the way, some people have asked about pairings (here and in the other places I post this story) so I'll just make it very clear right now: there are no couples. No hay parejas, Il n'y a pas de couple, não há casais, es gibt keinen (keine?) paare (sorry, my German is very rusty). The point is that these kids are eight years old, and even when we reach Hogwarts years, eleven-year-olds aren't exactly focused on romance. I'm also garbage at writing romance so yeah, none of that until maybe third or fourth year.
Also my laptop is still broken and I still can't afford a new one, I typed this up on a borrowed computer, so it might be better not to hold your breaths for another update anytime soon, sorry.
Hey, if you'd like something else to entertain you (besides every other fanfic in this website) in between updates, please check out Epic: The Musical (there's full animatic playlists on YT)! This masterpiece has consumed my brain for the last two weeks, no joke. I'm literally listening to the official playlist on spotify as I write this.
GLOSSARY
Séce (Old English): to look for; seek
Mín (Old English): my
Cnōsl (Old English): progeny; offspring; family; kin