Chapter Text
“I just don’t see the point in throwing a ball around while flying around on broomsticks and trying not to fall off and die,” Lyn was grumbling as they made their way to the quidditch pitch to watch the first match of the semester. “Er—no offense. I didn’t mean to be rude; I just don’t really get it, I suppose.”
“None taken,” Marcus assured her. They were walking together a few paces in front of Gavina and Merlin. Two months into the semester and they were thick as thieves, which Merlin supposed shouldn’t surprise him. They were very different, but similar in their kindness and strength of character, which was enough to form a lasting friendship. “It’s not for everyone. It’s hard to describe what it’s like, though, for those of us who really love it. It’s exhilarating, yes, but there’s also something to be said for the feeling of looking around at your teammates and knowing that you’ve accomplished something together. Even if it’s just a game.”
“Spoken like a true Slytherin,” Merlin remarked. He understood it, though—he’d gone for a professional career with the national Welsh team in the nineteenth century and thoroughly enjoyed his time there. The camaraderie he felt on the pitch didn’t come close to the feeling of being surrounded by people who would fight and die for each other, but it was still fun.
From what he’d heard, Harry Potter was allowed to join the Gryffindor team in his first year as an exception to the usual rules. However, Draco Malfoy, his rival—and not a fun rival like Arthur—was competing for the first time today and many students were eager to watch the outcome.
Ben, Lance, Penny, and Clyde were waiting for them near the stands already, their cheeks pink from the chill. Marcus waved as they neared and the rest of the group followed suit.
“So, who are you rooting for?” Ben asked as he offered his scarf to the seemingly cold Lyn, who politely accepted it.
“I can’t decide between House loyalty and wanting those fuckers to get pummeled,” Marcus said. “I’m just here for a good time, really.”
“I’ll go for Gryffindor,” Gavina said, sending a wink Marcus’ way. “The Weasley twins seem fun, and the others all seem alright, too.”
There were a few general nods of agreement from the group of mostly Hufflepuff students. Despite Marcus’ shred of House loyalty, it seemed clear to them that they should support Gryffindor.
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t really care either way,” he said. “May the better team win.”
As the match started, Merlin quickly realized that something was wrong. Poor Harry Potter was being relentlessly chased by a Bludger that was clearly enchanted. Merlin was surprised that no one was calling foul or stopping the game when it was so obviously unfair and dangerous.
Reaching out to the Bludger with his magic, he tried to see if he could get a sense of what type of spell was being used. To his surprise, it didn’t feel like wizarding magic at all. This was a more instinctual magic, not unlike his own; it wasn’t magic of the Old Religion, but it did come from some sort of magical creature.
Why the hell would a house elf be trying to injure Harry Potter?
Before Merlin had a chance to do anything to help or warn anyone else, the Bludger hit the poor boy and he sped towards the Malfoy kid, reaching past him—was he going for the fucking Snitch? Still ? What the hell were they teaching these kids?
When the boy fell, Merlin instinctively cushioned his fall enough that the only injury he seemed to sustain was a broken arm. Merlin longed to do a more in-depth examination of his health, but Lockhart got there first and did… something.
Oh, gods, that was so gross.
Merlin had seen worse, of course, but that didn’t make the moment feel any better. Arms certainly weren’t supposed to wiggle and… flop… like that.
This was definitely going on the board.
“ I wanna hit that hiiiiiiiiiigh… ”
Merlin bounced along to the music as he set about attaching the newest Lockhart Mistake to the board. Technology wasn’t allowed in Hogwarts—a rule that Merlin thought was lazy on the part of the professors and stifling to the students, since the magic issues could easily be solved with a few well-placed charms—so the Walkman he was using was hidden under his robes and charmed to not interfere with the wards or others spells being cast. Sure, he could just conjure the music himself, but where was the fun in that? He liked the aesthetic of these little human inventions too much to completely leave them behind.
“ Yeah, yeah, yeahhh…”
He did hope that he wasn’t interrupting anyone’s sleep with his obnoxious singing. He had put a quick silencing charm on the common room so that he didn’t disturb anyone, but charms didn’t work on vibes.
The thing about silencing charms, Merlin remembered later, was that they worked both ways. He knew that already, of course, but he hadn’t thought about what that would mean in the context of his whole ‘being a protector of these children and keeping an eye on what was happening in the school’ thing.
Suffice to say, Colin Creevey was Petrified and Merlin just let it happen. Not a great time all around. Well, actually, Merlin did have a great time and that’s what made it all worse—some poor innocent child was Petrified and the Great Merlin was busy listening to American 80s pop and adding to his conspiracy board side project.
Being over a millennium old was supposed to make you smarter, right?
“O Great Merlin, why is thy face so long?”
Merlin smiled sadly at Gavina as she came to sit next to him on the steps by the courtyard. “It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it.”
“Is it about Colin?” she asked, unrelenting. “I saw your face when they announced the news at breakfast. Were you two friends?”
Merlin shrugged. “I didn’t know him. I just felt like I should have done something.”
“You know you’re not actually the Great Merlin, right?” Gavina asked after a moment. “What could you have done? Stood in front of him and gotten yourself killed?”
Merlin just shrugged again, not having the heart to play into his character. Or worse, actually tell her that, yes, he was ‘ actually the Great Merlin’ and he could have easily saved Colin from his fate.
“Besides, I heard that they’re making an antidote or something,” Gavina added. “So it’s not like he’s not coming back. If anything, I should be the one upset—he offered to do my Charms homework if I got him Harry’s autograph. Am I supposed to do it myself now?”
When Merlin barely cracked a smile, Gavina let out a put-upon sigh. “Alright, fine. I guess I have to take matters into my own hands.” She stood up, pulling Merlin with her. “We’re going to pay a visit to the lake.”
“What? Why?”
“Because that’s where Lockhart brought his fourth-year class,” Gavina said. “He’s enacting one of his god-forsaken stories again, and I thought we could spruce up his performance a little bit.”
It only took them a few minutes to sprint to the Great Lake, and by the time they got there, Lockhart’s performance was in full swing. He was gesticulating wildly, giving a monologue that they couldn’t quite hear from their hiding spot behind a nearby tree. Something about a werewolf and a fashion magazine? Merlin might have understood if he’d actually read a word of Lockhart’s books.
Gavina whispered a spell that made a banana peel appear in the middle of the scene. Lockhart, not noticing, stepped directly onto the peel and landed ass up in the mud.
“Oh, that’s gotta hurt,” Merlin whispered with a snort as Lockhart stood up and unsuccessfully attempted to brush the mud from his knees. He whispered another spell that made Lockhart’s robes wrap him up like a burrito and send him back to the ground.
“Not bad,” Gavina commented. “I think I can do you one better, though.”
And with that, she did the most beautiful thing Merlin had seen in the past fifty years. Suddenly Lockhart wasn’t just writhing on the ground in his ridiculous turquoise cape—no, he was now accelerating down the banks of the lake at a truly alarming speed, like he was using one of those slip ‘n’ slides the non-magical world had created. It was a sight like none he’d ever seen before. Lockhart screamed bloody murder as he slid straight into the depths of the lake.
“Yikes,” Merlin said. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”
Gavina shrugged. “Probably.”
Just as Merlin considered diving into the lake and executing a beautiful rescue mission that would earn them at least thirty points for Hufflepuff, a voice spoke directly to his mind.
Emrys, the voice of the giant squid echoed in his head, did you drop this?
And with that, a giant tentacle shot out of the water with a sopping wet Lockhart-shaped burrito dangling from the end of its limb. The class gasped and began cheering and clapping for his performance.
Merlin whistled. “Beautiful work!”
Shall I deposit him here?
Right over there in that mud puddle would be great, Merlin replied. And thanks for the clutch, by the way.
Of course, Lord Emrys, the squid said. It dropped Lockhart into the mud and he splatted like a pancake. Also, could you return later? There is much to discuss.
Sure thing.
He sought out the house-elves next.
It was remarkably easy to sneak into the kitchens when they were right next to the Hufflepuff chambers. Honestly, Helga probably designed them that way. Everyone always went on about Rowena’s intellect, but Merlin personally thought that Helga knew what was up.
“Master Emrys!”
Several voices called out to him as he entered, and Merlin smiled at a few familiar faces.
“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” he admonished, jokingly shaking his finger at Bink and Litzy, whom he remembered as being fairly young the last time he’d visited. They now seemed to be among the senior elves. “I am no one’s master.”
“It’s such an honour to meet you!” one of the elves exclaimed, coming forward to shake his hand. “I’m Donyl, Mr. Emrys.”
Nearly every elf in the room tried to introduce themself after that. Merlin got lost after the first three—Mippy, Rooper, and Wimly—and tried his best to smile patiently at the rest of them.
“How is the work these days?” he asked after introductions were finished. “Is Albus treating you well?”
“Oh, yes, sir!” Wimly spoke up. “Living at Hogwarts is a dream!”
Merlin fought down the urge to raise an eyebrow in disbelief. Instead, he nodded at Wimly’s assertion and looked to Bink for confirmation.
Bink shrugged. “The kid’s new,” he said quietly. “He just came from one o’ them pure-blood houses. Treated like crap there, he was. You know how they can be. Ever since he came here, he’s been singing Dumbledore’s praises left and right.”
Merlin glanced over at Wimly, who was still grinning ear-to-ear. “Is that the general consensus, then? You’ve been living well, no unfair demands?”
“Nothing to speak ill of here. It’s honest work here at Hogwarts,” Litzy confirmed from his other side. “And I thank you for that, Sir Emrys.”
Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. “Ah, Litzy, I’ve never been knighted in my long life. ‘Merlin’ is fine.” He surveyed the rest of the room, taking note that everyone seemed to be in good health and joking around with each other as they worked. “And I can’t take credit for what you’ve accomplished here.”
Merlin had only learned of the ridiculous magic rules surrounding house elves a few centuries ago, and fighting them was incredibly slow and difficult. He never fully understood their culture and views on wages or obedience, but he did understand service and loyalty. The least he could do was help them petition for laws governing their fair treatment, even if he would rather them not be enslaved at all. Even all of his magic couldn’t stand up to the powers of bureaucracy, though, and it was a struggle to get the Ministry to actually enforce the laws. He’d always thought there might be some sort of solution to achieving free will without being offensive to the house elves’ culture—
“Well, Merlin, is there something we can do for you while you’re down here?” Bink asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Oh, yes, I almost forgot.” Merlin looked around at the few elves that were still gathered in their little group. “Does anyone here know about magic being used in a Quidditch game yesterday? A Bludger was enchanted and it felt like it might have been a house elf, though I can’t be certain.”
Donyl frowned, glancing around at the other elves and leaning in to speak to Merlin quietly. “If it was house elf magic, sir, it wasn’t from one of us. We can’t use our magic to harm students here.”
“It might have been a rogue elf,” Litzy added. She said ‘rogue elf’ the way a pure-blood would say ‘mudblood,’ and Merlin tried not to wince.
Bink was nodding along. “A couple o’ elves’ve left the castle recently,” he added. “We’s not sure how they got themselves the clothes, but Zinky and Hilch stopped showing up for breakfast a few weeks ago, and I haven’t seen Hopsy and Jorin since Halloween night. They right abandoned us, must’ve got some big ideas about freedom since that Dobby fellow started hanging around.”
Huh. Merlin had never heard of so many house elves leaving Hogwarts before. “Right,” he said. “Well, thank you all for your time. I really do appreciate it. And please let me know if any more elves disappear.”
“‘S always a pleasure to help you, Merlin,” Bink said. “Why don’t you take some pies with you?”
“And a brownie!” Wimly called.
By the time Merlin was making his way out of the kitchens, he was laden down with so much food he thought he might need to make a second trip. Then he remembered he had magic and he could just make it lighter. He did that.
The sun lit up the walls of the castle, brightening them to a blinding white. On such a nice day, the market was bustling with activity as commoners and nobles alike tried to make the best of the weather. Despite the noise, though, it felt as though all of Camelot had stopped to watch the interaction that was unfolding.
“Do I know you?”
“Uh, I’m Merlin.”
“So I don’t know you.”
“No.”
“And yet you called me ‘friend.’”
Merlin paused, looking over Arthur critically. “That was my mistake.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Yeah,” Merlin said with a challenging grin. “I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”
“Or I one who could be so stupid.” Arthur put a casual hand on his sword. “Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”
“No.”
“Would you like me to help you?”
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
Arthur laughed at this strange boy who had the bravery to stand up to a prince, of all people. He couldn’t help but be intrigued, and continued to taunt the young man until he snapped and threw a truly horrendous punch. Arthur restrained him easily, twisting his arm painfully behind his back. “I’ll have you thrown in jail for that.”
“Who do you think you are, the king?”
“No, I’m his son. Arthur.”
For a second upon awakening, Arthur thought he was still in the dream world. There was something familiar about the Gryffindor chambers, the stone walls and stained glass windows, the red bedding and tapestries decorating the room. He felt for a moment that he was a different person completely, with a different life, different expectations, different experiences, different friends… actually, no his friends were quite familiar…
Arthur rubbed his temples. He was starting to get a headache, and it wasn’t even breakfast yet.
He’d managed to nearly forget about the dream until he caught sight of Merlin in the Dining Hall.
“Uh, I’m Merlin.”
Why in the ever-living fuck had he been dreaming of Merlin? It was bad enough that they shared classes and detentions together; now the idiot was even intruding on his beauty sleep?
Merlin looked up at that moment and tried to wave, looking way too chipper for this godforsaken hour of the morning. Arthur flipped him off.
“You’re just mad because your spellwork is trash.”
“Well, you are what you eat.”
Merlin grinned as Arthur let out a genuine—if surprised—laugh. They were supposed to be washing the floors of some of the classrooms for detention, but it was as if the professors forgot they had magic. Merlin had charmed the water bucket to infinitely refill while Arthur had enchanted the sponges to move in circles. They made a pretty good team, Merlin thought.
“What the hell does that even mean?” Arthur said as he looked up from where he’d been attempting to make a fortress out of Lockhart’s selfie stash. Yet another thing to add to the board.
Merlin shrugged and swung his legs a bit from his perch on the edge of a desk. At least being eleven meant his legs were short enough to swing around as he pleased. “Beats me. It just felt right to say, you know?”
“I really do think you’ve got a few loose screws,” Arthur remarked, then swore as his fortress toppled over for the twelfth time. Merlin tried to look innocent and wondered how long he could get away with creating gusts of wind in a room with no ventilation.
“Probably,” Merlin agreed. “I’ve been locked up with a psychopath and forced to do nothing but clean for the last week, so excuse me for losing my mind a little bit.”
“Wouldn’t you be used to cleaning at this point?” Arthur abandoned his fortress and stood up from the desk he’d been using to build it. “I thought that was something that people did in muggle orphanages.”
“How do you know I grew up in an orphanage?” Merlin asked, genuinely surprised. He’d only told a few people about his fake past—not that he thought there was anything wrong with his falsified background. He just found it easier to not talk about it rather than try to remember all the details that he told people.
Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Believe it or not, Merlin, I am capable of hearing information and storing it in my brain.”
“Holy shit,” Merlin breathed, “a breakthrough!”
“Shut up,” Arthur said. After a few moments, he spoke up again, not looking at Merlin’s face. “Was it difficult?”
“Hmm?” Merlin had gotten distracted by one of the creepy Lockhart selfies winking at him, but he focused his attention back on Arthur when he heard his quiet question. “Oh, the orphanage?”
He scrambled for a second for something to say—he hadn’t actually grown up in an orphanage, though he had volunteered for a few over the years. “Well, it wasn’t exactly the best. It was crowded, and we don’t get enough funding, and there’s not enough to go around. But I’ve learned to find the good in the bad—there are a lot of good people there, you know? People who care.”
Arthur nodded, still not making eye contact. He was clearly embarrassed at having asked in the first place, being the emotionally stunted arrogant boy he was.
“What about you?” Merlin prompted. “As long as we’re having a little heart-to-heart here, you might as well tell me about your family.”
“None of your business,” Arthur snapped. Well, there went that. “Anyway, aren’t we going to do something? Chase down your little snake friend?”
“What?” Merlin blinked. “First of all, the snake is almost certainly not ‘little.’ And since when are you so eager to break the school rules?”
“It seems strange to sit in here wasting time when there’s a mystery to solve,” Arthur said. “Besides, anything would be better than wasting away in here. Your presence is infuriating.”
“Thank you,” Merlin said. He thought for a moment. “Have you ever broken into the library?”