Chapter Text
“Where is he!” demanded the bizarrely dressed man, loudly enough that it boomed across the large room.
Merlin, sighing, stepped out from the crowd of people. “I’m right here, everything’s fine. They just wanted to summon Emrys to look at something.”
Harry frowned when he referred to himself in the third person, but that question was quickly answered when Arthur replied, “Mer—Emrys! You trailed off and then disappeared mid-sentence, what was I supposed to think? Why don’t you use all that magic to let me know you’re not dead or something?” He let the sword fall to his side as he crossed the Great Hall.
“Sorry,” Merlin winced when Arthur finally reached them. “Slipped my mind. Besides, this whole thing was your idea.”
“Slipped your—” Arthur paused mid-eyeroll to stare at Moody, who glared back.
They continued staring for some time, eyes narrowing steadily.
“Why does that man have your eye?” said Arthur.
“Huh?” Merlin got closer to inspect Moody, which is when Harry noticed that his eyes and Moody’s ‘mad’ one were precisely the same shade of electric blue.
“That’s weird,” said Merlin casually.
“Yeah!” said Arthur, loudly. “You could call it that!”
“Relax,” said Merlin. “Obviously, I grew a replacement.”
“Rela—” Arthur spluttered. “Obv—replace—Are you telling me that you misplaced your own eye? What will it be next?”
Merlin scoffed. “You make it sound like I just put it down somewhere and forgot about it.”
Arthur made a sound like he had been filled with too much air and then poked with a needle.
Harry, meanwhile, was having the time of his life watching the confused, horrified and fascinated faces of the onlookers.
“Is that not what happened?” Arthur finally said, and then: “When was this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did,” said Merlin carelessly, but Arthur continued staring at him. “You know,” Merlin prompted. “That time I got a bayonet to the face.”
Actually, the noise Arthur was making sounded a bit like a tea kettle.
“And how, exactly,” he said through gritted teeth, “did this result in your eye ending up in someone else’s eye face?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t about to put it back in my head, was I? Even if I could fix it, it’d been on the ground! That’s just asking for gangrene of the brain. Easier to just grow a new one.”
“Well, why did you leave it lying around then?” Arthur exploded.
“It’s a battlefield, Arthur! If there’s any acceptable place to leave a body part lying around, that would be it!”
Arthur apparently couldn’t argue with that. Instead, he and Merlin both turned to look appraisingly at Moody, who appeared dumbstruck.
“Do you…” Moody managed, “want it back?”
“Nah,” said Merlin. “Two’s plenty.” He pointed at his own face, as if it were somehow uncertain where the rest of his eyes currently were.
There was a long pause before Cedric Diggory (who, frankly, Harry had forgotten was here) piped up. “Erm, Professor Ambrose?”
“Nope!” Merlin blurted.
Whilst Merlin and Cedric whispered rapidly in the far corner of the room (the other champions and their headmasters straining to eavesdrop), Professor Dumbledore negotiated with Mr. Crouch, trying to convince the astonishingly obstinate man to reconsider the ludicrous idea of forcing Harry to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. Eventually, he was so outnumbered that he had no choice but to agree to “review the precedents” before making an official determination.
Merlin and Dumbledore both seemed satisfied, as the latter asked Moody to see their guests and the champions from the Great Hall since it was growing so late. No doubt, the other students would all be sitting awake, waiting to hear news of the Tournament. Harry hoped the Gryffindors wouldn’t be too disappointed.
Merlin did not seem at all concerned that any of the eight people leaving the room might be inclined to reveal to the world at large than an ancient Druidic deity was, in fact, alive and well, but it was to Arthur that Harry looked for reassurance, and his obvious lack of worry was enough to make Harry certain that the two of them had some sort of backup plan.
“So,” said Harry when the doors closed behind the others. “How’s the treasure hunt going?”
“There’s one here we need to pick up before we leave, actually,” said Arthur matter-of-factly, still holding his sword in one hand. “Merlin thinks there are two more, but he can’t figure out where.”
“Here,” said Merlin, frowning. “I swear there’s another one around here somewhere.”
“Whatever you say, Merlin,” said Arthur.
“I’m going to find it.”
“Sure. Could we get back to the topic of the eye now? That man just walked out of the room with your bloody eye in his head.”
Merlin rolled his two remaining eyes. “Honestly, Arthur. As long as no one starts trying to harvest my other eyes, I see no reason to worry about it.”
“Hang on,” Harry blurted. “Does this mean you can see through walls too?”
“Oh, the eye has special powers?” said Merlin, glancing back toward the door Moody had left through. Harry held up four fingers behind his back in preparation for his next question. “Cool. But no,” he continued, “I can’t see through things—four—but sometimes I can sort of tell what’s on the other side.”
“Er,” said Arthur. “Four?”
“Harry was about to ask how many fingers he was holding up,” Merlin explained.
“You can see the future?” McGonagall asked.
“Yeah, sometimes,” said Merlin, “but I didn’t need to, I saw him do it just now. Behind his back.”
“You just said you couldn’t see through things!” said Arthur.
“I didn’t see it,” Merlin explained, as if Arthur was just being slow. “I… noticed it.”
“Never mind,” Arthur groaned. “This is a stupid conversation. Can we get back to the game now?”
Hm, thought Harry, sensing an opportunity for a bet with himself. Sport, arcade or board game? His money was on the former.
“You and your thimble can both go to hell,” said Merlin calmly.
Ah, Harry thought. Monopoly.
“More importantly,” said Lupin, “what about the Tournament? Is Harry going to have to compete?”
Merlin waved a hand. “Oh, no, don’t worry. I’ll drop in on Crouch later, see what he’s up to. After all, he’s the only one who actually wants Harry in the Tournament. I’m beginning to think he may be under some sort of spell.”
“Er,” said Lupin. “That sounds dangerous.”
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “And what of the large group of people who just left this room knowing that there is a thousand-year-old wizard in our midst?”
Merlin beamed. “Oh, you’ll like this.”
“Good lord,” Arthur muttered.
“I’ve invented a new curse!” said Merlin, happily ignoring him. “I call it ‘the Cassandra Curse’.”
Lupin frowned. “How is that…?”
“They can tell whoever they want,” he explained cheerfully, “but no one will ever believe them.”
“Are you sure that will work?” said Arthur sceptically.
“I may not always be the sharpest bulb in the drawer,” Merlin allowed, “but I know what I’m doing when it comes to magic, Arthur.”
“Wait—”
“And besides,” he continued, “we did some much more difficult blood magic just a few months ago, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
Arthur crossed his arms. “I’ve been a little busy traipsing about the country looking for cursed trinkets lately, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Ignoring him, Merlin turned to Lupin. “I do hope the boys didn’t cause you too much trouble, by the way.”
“Not at all,” he replied. “Sirius and I were both glad to have something to do in return for your letting us stay there.”
“Well,” Harry piped up. “Dudley did cause a bit of trouble.”
“Do I need to talk some sense into that little brat again?” Arthur growled.
“Not necessary,” said Lupin quickly. “He became somewhat agreeable when his parents weren’t around. Eventually.”
“Thought he would,” said Merlin smugly. “Had to do the same thing with Arthur, you know.”
“Shut up.”
“Except with Dudley,” Merlin mused, “I only worry about him growing jealous like Petunia did of Lily. You didn’t do too much magic, did you?”
“We didn’t,” said Lupin. “Your house did, though.”
“Dudley’s fine,” said Harry. “Put him in front of a telly and he’s happy.”
Arthur frowned. “A boy really ought to be outside more than that. A bit of hard work would do him some good.”
Merlin scoffed. “Says the man who would spend all day watching cartoons if he could.”
“Please tell me he’s seen The Sword in the Stone,” said Harry.
“No!” said Merlin quickly. “And he never will.”
Arthur perked up. “What’s this?”
“That one’s not bad, actually,” Lupin said with a laugh.
“It is so!” replied an indignant Merlin. “I mean, the characters, and the circumstances, and our ages... and the bloody beard again!”
“Are you or are you not regularly harassed by your own belongings?”
Merlin glared.
“I need to see this,” said Arthur.
“You’d hate it,” said Merlin.
“You would,” Harry agreed.
Arthur frowned. “And by the way, I still don’t understand—”
Merlin swiftly cut him off. “I’m not explaining the bond of blood charm to you again. All you need to know is that Harry lives. With. The Dursleys,” he said emphatically. “He was merely in Ealdor for an ‘extended visit’.”
“Whatever.” Arthur threw up his hands.
“I don’t see how Dudley being there strengthens the spell,” said Harry. “Or how you managed to convince Aunt Petunia to let him visit in the first place.”
“He’s a blood relative living with you,” Merlin shrugged. “Figured it couldn’t hurt.”
He conspicuously did not answer the second question. Harry suspected Merlin felt bad for Dudley, but couldn’t imagine why.
“Have you any notion of who might have put Potter’s name in the Goblet of Fire?” asked Professor McGonagall, who was inspecting the goblet as she spoke.
“Not really,” said Merlin. “It must have been an adult, but I can’t say exactly why anyone would go to the trouble. That Mr. Crouch was oddly insistent on Harry’s participation, though.”
She looked up, eyes hardening. “You don’t think…”
“I don’t know,” Merlin mused. “I didn’t get evil vibes from him. I really think something’s wrong with him, I’m going to look into it.”
“I think it’s the one-eyed bloke,” Arthur contributed. Everyone turned to look at him; he shrugged. “I don’t like him.”
“Dumbledore said he’s trustworthy,” said Merlin doubtfully.
“Said the same thing about the bat man who looked like Agravaine.”
“Don’t call him Batman.”
“Whatever. I’m just saying, anyone who steals someone else’s eye has got something wrong with them.”
“He didn’t steal it.”
“Well, he didn’t ask for it.”
“That’s beside the point,” said Merlin, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t look like any of your relatives, so I don’t see what the problem is.”
“He looks a little like my great-uncle Victor.”
Merlin squinted. “You just made him up.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you—oh, wait, he’s coming back.”
They both froze very suspiciously at Moody pushed the door open, glanced at them briefly, and returned to Dumbledore’s side.
“I fear Crouch won’t budge,” he growled.
“Aha!” Merlin shouted.
They all turned to him, but that was apparently all he had to say.
“Did you sense evil again?” Arthur sighed.
“Yeah,” said Merlin happily. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“I never like it.”
“You’re really not going to like this.”
“For—” Arthur pointed his sword at him for emphasis. “Tell me.”
“I sense an extra Dark Mark. I’ve found another impostor.”
For a good five seconds, no one moved an inch.
Then Moody pulled out his wand, followed quickly by Professor Dumbledore, but their standoff was interrupted by Arthur tossing his sword at Merlin—who somehow caught it despite his fumbling—and body-slamming Moody, tackling him to the ground as Merlin yelled to watch out for the wand, but as it happened, the wand snapped under their combined weight and Moody just roared and clawed furiously at his attacker until Arthur managed to subdue him by pressing his face into the stone floor, knee on the small of his back. He twisted around to look at Merlin.
“Little help here?”
“Right, sorry.”
With a wave of his hand, Merlin restrained Moody with thin golden strands that rose from the floor and wrapped around him on all sides.
“For the record,” said Arthur, rising to his feet, “when I said I was okay with your magic—” He dusted himself off disdainfully. “This was not what I had in mind.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t sign up to follow around an idiot with a death wish for all eternity, but here we are.”
“More like drag around,” Arthur muttered.
Merlin scoffed and waved the sword in his general direction. “Don’t even start, I know you love traipsing about the countryside looking for scary magical artefacts—and wrestling people to the ground too, by the way. I should know.”
“If you weren’t so scrawny—”
“There was Polyjuice Potion in his flask,” said Dumbledore.
They turned to see him holding up the flask in question as the false Moody squirmed and snarled at his feet.
“Ah,” said Merlin.
As usual, Merlin and Arthur loitered around the Hogwarts grounds for longer than necessary, though strangely enough, no one seemed to notice they were there—or at least, they didn’t seem to think it noteworthy.
“Glamour,” said Merlin and Hermione simultaneously when Harry had pointed it out.
Ron and Arthur both rolled their eyes.
After uncovering the false Moody’s deception, it had not taken them long to discover that Mr. Crouch’s Death Eater son had broken out of Azkaban, put Professor Moody and his father under the Imperius Curse, and disguised himself as Moody in order to lead Harry to Voldemort through one of the Triwizard Tournament tasks.
Needless to say, Harry was excused from competing, Moody and Crouch were both in the hospital wing, and the younger Crouch was, once again, on his way to Azkaban. For some reason, the games were scheduled to continue as planned, but Harry was just glad to be uninvolved for once, so he wasn’t asking questions.
Today, Merlin and Arthur were taking a break from their Horcrux hunt (or “quest,” as Merlin insisted on calling it) to swim with mermaids in the Black Lake. Harry, Ron and Hermione, lounging on the shore, could hear their occasional shouts any time they broke the surface to argue about something or other.
Despite the rather gruesome scarring scattered across both of their chests, Hermione and a few of the other students kept glancing surreptitiously at them in a way Harry had grown used to with Viktor Krum around; but everyone outside of the trio wandered away eventually, seeming to forget why they had come in the first place. One side effect of this was a continual rotation of Durmstrang students leaning over the edge of their ship to gawp in awe at the lunatics taking a swim in a frigid lake in November. Harry, meanwhile, relayed the events of last night.
“Huh,” said Ron when Harry had finished. “Guess they’re just going to continue turning up to save the day in the most ridiculous way possible, then.”
Harry hummed. “Six months,” he said. “They’ll be back before then.”
Ron started to speak, but Hermione waved a hand lazily at him. “That’s a fool’s bet,” she said. “Don’t take it.”
Ron shrugged, unable to argue with that.
Meanwhile, the warlock splashed a truly incredible amount of water directly in Arthur’s face before fleeing the scene—though he didn't swim away fast enough to escape Arthur. Indeed, Harry reflected, judging by Arthur’s predicament, it seemed that once Merlin grew fond of a person, it became quite impossible to get rid of him. Harry grinned and leaned back carelessly against his tree. He thought he could live with that.