Merlin Big Bang: Academy (Part Three)
~.~.~
“I almost dread going back to school tomorrow,” Lance whispered into the bedroom.
“And you think I’m not dreading the same thing? All that schoolwork and that annoying poltergeist getting on my nerves and all that na-na-na we get from the professors,” Morgana whined, turning around to look at him.
“And no swimming,” Arthur moaned. Lance didn’t know what Arthur’s fixation about swimming was because they’d been to the pool about five times for the three weeks they’d been here.
“Unless you don’t mind being frozen in the lake,” Lance interjected.
“Not unless you go during the spring. That will be our endeavour this year, friends, swimming in the Great Lake with the giant squid,” Lance could see the mischievous smile through the dim light.
“I’ll add it to the itinerary,” Lance nodded.
“You know you don’t need to whisper. My parents are asleep,” Arthur told him.
“Then why are you whispering?”
“Cause you are.”
“That’s cute.”
The atmosphere around the Pendragon household was generally happy and joyous during the daylight and the same could probably be said about the adolescents during the night, too, even if the grown-ups didn’t know about it.
Just two nights ago, Lance, Morgana and Arthur had successfully pulled a prank on the neighbour Arthur despised. They had made some sort of lever to transport eight Dung-Bombs into the room of said neighbour through the window. They would’ve gotten more, but eight was all Morgana and Lance could find so Arthur had skilfully phrased his words the next morning for his parents to take him to Zonko’s for another supply.
Lance loved being here, though this was the only the first time he’d been here. Mrs. Pendragon always made the nicest breakfasts for them and Mr Pendragon was pretty cool and actually understood his sense of humour, which was more than he could say about Arthur and Morgana sometimes.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like the house, too, because he did. It was big, with fancy black and white tiles, metal vines on the door and a long staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms; Mr and Mrs Pendragon’s and Arthur’s. Arthur’s bedroom looked a bit like his own, with the single bed and the posters on the wall, stuck on with a spell (though his was probably spelled by his parents, unlike Lance’s) and the feeling that, even though it was only occupying one person, it was lively.
But his house was big; too, he was just as privileged to have money as Arthur was.
What Arthur was privileged to have that Lance didn’t was freedom. The Pendragons whole-heartedly accepted Arthur and his friends, and left the three kids to their own devices when they went to work, unlike at his own house where that horrid house elf would make snarling sounds at him and his eyes would shoot through him.
Acceptance was the last thing his own parents would give him unless he swore on Emmy’s life he would marry a nice, pureblood girl. If he could run from that, he would but Elyan still needed him.
Elyan, who seemed like a lost cause already, had stopped sleeping in Lance’s single bed whenever their parents fought, which was every other night, had stopped giving him the scoops of ice-cream he couldn’t finish, had started with the cold shoulder. Seeing his little brother like this physically hurt him and he wondered if he’d made the right choice by spending the last four weeks of summer here instead of with him.
Lance looked at his friends; Arthur directly next to him, his legs pressed against Lance’s bag and Morgana on the extra bed, slowly falling asleep. The light in the room was magic, spelled to go out when all the kids fell asleep so it was still running. It was a nice sight, but his heart was still not complete, however cheesy that sounded.
Someone was missing, someone who had refused Arthur’s invitation to spend a few weeks at his house during the summer, for some godforsaken reason. The same someone all three of them had been reading up on becoming an Animagus for the whole summer.
“I miss Gwen,” Lance proclaimed into the night.
“Me, too, mate,” Arthur said sleepily before he fell soundly asleep.
For once in his life, Arthur Pendragon was anxious - in a good way - to get to the library. The whole summer, since Lance suggested it, he’d been reading up on the art of Transfiguration enough to make Tregor proud of him. Becoming an Animagus, surprisingly, was harder than he’d thought. Becoming an animal by magic, really, it hadn’t sounded that hard when he first heard about it.
The books his father had in his study weren’t really about the dark magical arts, so the help in that department were pretty much nil.
And then there was the question of which animal he could be. He couldn’t be some sort of rodent or something. He had to be something big and bold, fierce and courageous, something that could protect his friends whenever they needed to be protected.
But all these doubts and questions were quickly rushed out of his head when he saw Guinevere on the platform and remembered why he was breaking all the rules and several laws in the first place.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t love doing so- for he did; he was smuggling some stuff onto the Express right now from his personal collection - but he also liked having a reason that didn’t include endeavours to humiliate Freak Lake or attract that nice-looking group of girls in the courtyard. And if anything trumped inducing humiliation and getting the opportunity to suck face in the dark corridors, it was any one of his friends, because that was what friends did for each other.
“Excited, friends?” Arthur asked.
“Mm, very,” Morgana nodded. “The tail is bushy, the eyes are bright.”
“This is a new year,” Arthur helped her put her bags in the overhead compartments. “Which means new adventures.”
“New pranks,” Lance added.
“New ways to have fun,” Morgana supplied.
“Right-o, darlings!” Arthur pumped his fists victoriously.
“And now that we’re third-years, we might score some birds,” Lance shared a mischievous look with Arthur.
“Ew,” Gwen said to him, looking up from her book.
“What? Don’t you find me attractive, Gwenny? Am I not the very picture of tall, dark and handsome?” Lance teased, his face inches from making kissy faces at her.
“Good luck finding someone who’ll put up with you and look past your looks,” Gwen smashed her hand in his face.
“Ah! So you admit I have looks!” Lance pointed at her. “Besides, I am looking for something purely superficial.”
“Har de har har,” Morgana said dryly.
“What’s wrong, Morgs?” Arthur asked.
“I’ll bet you five Galleons that you’ll both have girlfriends by Christmas and I’ll be alone. Forever,” Morgana said sadly. “I’ll be the only one, you know, alone.”
“Hello, I’m perfectly fine with being alone,” Gwen waved her hand, trying to have her presence acknowledged.
“Of course you are, Gwenny, cause you could have one book and decide that having significant others would never come close to the gratifying experience,” Morgana said, managing, somehow, to make it sound like a compliment and an insult at the same time.
Lance snickered- which got him a smack on the arm from Gwen -while Arthur gave Morgana a Pumpkin Pastie and a pat on the back. He didn’t know why he would even think that no one would want her because she was slowly growing into quite a nice-looking girl. Her hair had grown darker, but her skin was no longer as white as a sheet, it had gained a rosy blush around the cheeks.
Arthur was sure he was going to pay her five Galleons by Christmastime, but she seemed so down and out about it. Girls, he was never to get them, was he?
They were already a month in and they hadn’t been any more informed since they started. The library wasn’t exactly keen on letting the students know about how to become an Animagus. They had tried going to the Restricted Section, but it wasn’t as if they had time to go through every book in the A section when they were already afraid of being caught.
“This is the last resort, isn’t it?” Morgana asked, walking with Arthur and Lance. They had fed Gwen some lie about how they needed to get some extra credit from Tregor.
“Why are you so worried? Tregor loves us,” Arthur said.
“Even we set free the rats we were supposed to Transfigure in class? Even after she saw us putting chocolate frogs on Lake’s seat in the Hall? Or when we accidentally set off a Dung-Bomb outside her office?” Morgana asked.
“Tregor loves us,” Arthur persisted. “Besides, we’ve never done anything directly to her.”
“True,” Lance nodded. “She’ll be suspicious, though.”
“Everyone’s suspicious of us,” Arthur said with a smirk, knocking on Tregor’s office door.
All three of them tried to look as prim and proper as they could -which wasn’t much- except for Lance, who just made his hair messier as the door opened swiftly by itself. It revealed a handsome office with an oak table, shelves full of books and a slender witch spelling the space into neatness.
“Professor?” Morgana asked.
“Miss Lefay,” Tregor smiled at her but her eyes narrowed at the sight of Arthur and Lance, her smile, however, never faltering. “And Misters DuLac and Pendragon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Professor, ma’am, might I just point out how lovely you look this fine afternoon? Why, in this light, you seem positively godly, Miss Tregor. It is a miss, isn’t it?” Lance walked towards her with a sway, making the other two burst into laughter.
“Dispense of the theatrics, Mr Dulac, will you please?” Tregor asked but she did look highly amused. “Where is Miss Leodegrance? I thought the four of you came in a special pack.”
“I fear, Professor, she has grown temporarily bored of our childish antics,” Arthur replied with a straight face.
“Good for her,” Tregor nodded.
“Professor, we have a legitimate question to ask, actually,” Morgana stepped forward.
“Well, in that case, please sit down,” the professor waved her wand and made extra chairs appear for them to sit on.
“We were wondering,” Arthur started, “how one becomes an Animagus.”
“Where did you hear that term? I myself wasn’t scheduled to teach that until next semester,” she asked, intrigued.
The three youngsters looked to each other and replied simultaneously, “We get around.”
“I do not doubt that. Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious, ma’am and since we figured said subject would not be extensively covered by our great Academy library, the only accurate and best source would be you,” Arthur smiled. “Please, Professor? Feed our endless young curiosity?”
She sighed, as if she didn’t want to tell them but Morgana was sure that one of the boys put on their puppy-dog eyes so that she would stop sighing and answer them.
“The art of becoming an Animagus is a delicate and excruciating process. One should not take it so lightly. It requires strenuous amounts of magic and strength from the mind, body and soul. One must be prepared for the task.”
“How do you do it, exactly?”
“You are placed in some sort of trance and you need to be in a high emotional state, tap into your inner animal. In this state, spells are to be recited with such concentration that some might exhaust themselves and faint. The process is repeated several times until the person is comfortable with their inner animal, and soon after, they are sent for some time in solitude to try to Change.”
“That sounds…hard,” Arthur said.
“It is, Mr Pendragon. It is a commitment. One must be sure if they want to undertake it.”
“Why’d you do it, Professor?” Lance asked.
Tregor gave a small laugh then answered, “For knowledge. I sacrifice too much for my work, see.”
“I find it admirable, Professor,” Lance nodded, the honesty of the statement taking the Transfiguration teacher aback.
“Thank you,” she said.
“How long does it take to become one, usually?” Morgana asked, hoping for the best when she did.
“It depends on the wizard. For someone skilled it could take as little as two or three months, but most take years to master becoming an Animagus. Some just give up halfway. That’s part of the reason the Ministry keeps tabs on these people.”
“The Ministry, ma’am?”
“You must register with them to become an Animagus, of course.”
“Ah, of course,” Lance nodded, looking as if these obstacles weren’t new for him.
“Is that all?” Tregor asked, straightening her posture.
“I believe so but I am assuming that if we have further queries about this matter, we can refer to your expertise?” Arthur began to stand.
“You are very welcome to,” Tregor nodded. “I expect you in my class tomorrow morning.”
“Of course and Guinevere as well, if she has stopped hating us.”
“Goodbye Professor,” Lance said in a sad, almost Shakespearean voice. “Until morning then, when I can once again feast on your beauty until my mind, body and soul are satiated.”
“We should probably go before he breaks into a sonnet.” Morgana hauled him up by the shoulders.
“Excellent idea, Miss Lefay,” Tregor said.
As soon as they were out of the office, Morgana started with her objections. She loved Gwen with all her heart, really she did, but before she could even process the whole thing, she’d started out by yelling, “It’s a strenuous process! Years, Arthur! We’d have to register with the Ministry!”
Arthur grasped her shoulders and shook her like he was expecting candy to drop from her. When she stopped, she looked him and Lance in the eye and relaxed her shoulders. “We’re still doing it, aren’t we?”
“Mm-hmm,” Arthur nodded.
Lance muttered under his breath about something to do with, “The things we do for love…”
He might have been imagining it, but it almost seemed like Arthur and Co were ignoring him. For the past few weeks, that was the way it had been. Arthur looked through Merlin like he was the tree in the way of a nice sight, but otherwise there hadn’t been any new taunts or teases coming from him ever since the new school year started.
They looked busy, the three of them; Arthur, Morgana and Lance, as if they were already preparing for their OWLs, which was ridiculous to even think about. The only time the three of them studied harder than they ‘partied’ was days before the exam. Although, usually Merlin would hear Gwen rant on about how they should’ve studied earlier with her and Elena.
But it did look like they were revising, though; the way they were hunched over books and reciting spells under their breath, so much so until Aulfric had snapped Lance’s table with a ruler one lesson.
“Care to share what it was you were muttering silently under your breath to the class?” Aulfric had asked Lance, who usually paid respect to teachers.
“Of course not, Professor,” Lance had answered. “That was why I was muttering it quietly, sir.”
Safe to say, he’d landed detention after that with Morgana who had then opted to make noise as well. It was a moral in their group Merlin had noticed; if one of them got into trouble then they all did.
Regardless of the reason, Merlin was grateful that he could once again spend his afternoons with Freya on the grounds without being interrupted.
Like today; the two of them were sitting on the grass, Merlin on his back and Freya sitting comfortably next to him.
Merlin...
“Yeah?” Merlin’s head snapped up from his book.
“What?” Freya asked.
“You called me?”
“No, I didn’t. I think you’ve been reading too much there, M,” Freya smiled at him.
He was convinced by this and put his book away, saying that they should get inside the castle because it was almost lunchtime. He was utterly convinced, until, that was, he heard it again.
Merlin...
This time he knew it wasn’t Freya’s voice. She was going on about how maybe her mum was going to take her and Merlin - if he wanted - on a countryside trip during the holidays. And besides, this was a different kind of voice. It reminded him of his grandfather; old and wise, maybe smelt a little of tobacco and wood, if a sound could smell like something. It was absurd, he knew, but that was he thought.
Maybe it could smell like blood as well, because old men always had war wounds and stories they couldn’t tell to their young. Regardless, the voice persisted with calling his name.
Over and over his name was called in that a voice that elongated his syllables. It started to haunt him, until Freya stopped and shook him.
“Merlin,” she said. “Are you alright? You look like you’re somewhere else.”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I was,” Merlin nodded, hoping a weak smile might make up for it. It did because she smiled, too, and went on to ask if he wanted to follow them on the trip she was talking about.
This time, he listened as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, a few feet away from Arthur and his friends. Gwen waved and Arthur looked at him nodding curtly at him like a polite gentleman would do to one of his acquaintances. Merlin then wondered if last year’s routine with Arthur’s midnight strolls finally upped Merlin to a more formidable status in Arthur’s eyes.
For the briefest of moments, Arthur locked eyes with Merlin. It almost seemed like an accident, of course it was; Arthur would never look directly at Merlin willingly, just as Merlin wouldn’t want to see the eyes of a spoilt, arrogant prat like that. But, nonetheless, it happened, and Merlin noticed, in that small moment, how Arthur’s eyes looked. They were not the most prominent of blue, but the confidence and strength hidden behind them seemed just as striking.
And in that moment - however small and miniscule, it was in the measure of time and significance - the voice grew louder in his head, until he had to hold it, until he had to break the eye contact he’d established with Arthur Pendragon and yell in almost the same decibel as the voice.
MERLIN!
Tonight was the night. The night they had been thinking about, scheming about, planning for. The night wherein they would sneak into the designated room in the castle, one that was abandoned and filled with cobwebs and no one living would dare enter. They were on friendly terms with the ghosts of Hogwarts anyway so it wouldn’t be much of a problem either way, especially with that annoying Peeves, who had taken a liking to Morgana.
Lance was sure that if it would benefit their plan Morgana would use her wiles on him. She hadn’t exactly answered when he’d brought it up - she had smacked him and Arthur on the head with their History of Magic books and smirked - but he knew she loved Gwen.
Speaking of Gwen, she was sleeping already, setting their plan into motion. They had planned earlier that they would tire her out and make her fall asleep so she wouldn’t know because if there was anything they prided themselves with, it was the fact that they could easily tire someone with their antics.
Lance felt bad for keeping this from her, because this was for her after all, but then he thought about how she easily worried, how her hair frizzed up whenever she was really stressed, and decided they were doing her a favour. Besides, they weren’t going to keep this a secret for long, no of course not; only until they were sure they could do it.
He was the only one in the common room, waiting for Arthur and Morgana to come down and meet him. In less than a moment, Arthur came hopping down the stairs with a blue jacket wrapped around him and Morgana came down from the girls’ dorm with a red robe around her.
“Gwen’s fast asleep,” she told them.
“Fantastic,” Arthur nodded.
“I feel like we’re in a spy movie,” Lance said. “I think we should have codenames.”
“Codenames are cool,” Arthur agreed excitedly. “I could be Alpha Dog.”
“How predictable,” Morgana rolled her eyes.
“Why are you so against manliness, darling?” Lance asked.
“I’m not against manliness. I’m just disgusted by how you two portray it.”
Arthur and Lance then simultaneously posed in their manliest way which, of course, meant kissing their biceps and flashing award-winning smiles each. Morgana laughed at them then hooked her arms around their shoulders.
“Come on, then, boys. Time to go already,” she said.
They all nodded and made sure their wands were in their pockets. Lance pulled up his hood, as Arthur did with his own. They swiftly went through the door, careful not to wake the Fat Lady who was sleeping soundly in her painting.
Lance felt nervous, which was ridiculous because they’d snuck out in the night so many times before, mainly to make pranks and have their share of midnight mishaps. Perhaps he was nervous because of the fact that they had a purpose this time.
They glided along the surface of the marble floor and took the stairs they remembered would leave to the third floor corridor. Once they reached the third floor, they looked this way and that, mainly for surveillance purposes and then started to the right.
The door to the room was locked so Lance whipped out his wand and whispered, “Alohamora,” and heard a click as it opened.
Their room was just as they left it- dark, dingy and dodgy, just perfect for what they were about to. They’d read up on becoming an Animagus the best they could and if they couldn’t do it, they could honestly blame it on not enough resources, rather than for the lack of trying.
Morgana held her wand and recited, “Incendio,” to ignite the candles in the room while Arthur rolled out the old blanket he’d packed on the ground. Lance could do nothing but stand in the middle of the room, waiting anxiously to start. This was only the first time. The feeling would die down once they started doing it more regularly, surely.
Arthur beckoned them to come towards him and they all positioned themselves in a circle, hands held out, the very picture in the book that they’d seen in which they discussed Changing in groups.
“Ready?” Morgana asked, the nervousness clear in her voice.
“Yeah,” Lance nodded.
They recited the spell they had memorized, the one that would help them tap into themselves and find their inner animal. The book said that it was good to recite three times, but Lance found that in the middle of saying it the second time, the words drifted away and he found himself in darkness, right in the middle of his head.
He could still feel everything in the room, the heat from the candles, the cotton of the blanket underneath his feet and could hear the wind, Arthur and Morgana’s breathing, the stillness and silence that still laid over them like a constant spell though he could see nothing but darkness.
Something pulsed in his veins, something grand and worthy of mentioning. Magic, he decided; that was it. It felt golden, shiny and new all over and Lance almost thought that, in this very moment, if someone were to cut him open, he would spill out golden, magical blood like the Greek gods.
Then, suddenly, gold cascaded into the darkness, a whole wave of it slowly petering away, like there was a hole somewhere in the dark and the gold was trying to get out. It went away until two large circles remained.
Lance realized they weren’t just circles but they were eyes. Yes, they were eyes, two large, golden eyes that were staring back at him. They inched closer and closer.
All of sudden, his atmosphere disappeared. The candles, the blankets, Arthur and Morgana were gone and now he heard an animalistic sound at the back of his head. He wanted to turn and see what it was, but no, he couldn’t; the eyes were still looking at him and he dreaded to think what would happened if he turned away.
Something started growing on his forearms. It was like the little hairs on his arms were growing, really growing. It was like -there was a word for it, he was sure. It was like...fur.
The spell was recited again and Lance started, blinking his eyes open. The golden eyes disappeared, so did the fur, but he found that he was no longer in a standing position, he was crouched down on the ground, on all fours. Arthur was standing but he was in a straight stature, which was odd for him and Morgana was sitting on the ground, her hands clasped together.
“That was...” Arthur said, “really weird.”
This was getting ridiculous. It was fine, at first, once or twice a day, like an expected annoyance. But, now, it was costing him huge blocks of time where everything turned black and he could no longer account for anything. It was throbbing voice, one that caused headaches and blackouts.
Freya worried for him, probably more than he worried for himself, especially in the classes where Gryffindor and Slyhterin weren’t classmates. She looked at him like a helpless infant and he wasn’t going to lie; he felt like it sometimes.
It got so bad until he was excused from History of Magic and was told -nay, ordered- to take some time and lie in bed on his back looking at the ceiling. Now, Merlin Emrys was walking the long hallways of the Academy, alone, while the other students were busy learning what he should be learning, as well, towards his dormitory.
He supposed any other student would’ve taken the opportunity to explore the school and he also supposed he would do the same if he wasn’t so tired. It made him look like a buzzkill, he knew, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t at the standard of Arthur Pendragon and his gang but he wasn’t very goody, either.
The Academy was beautiful, though, and there was a beating drum at the back of his head when he realized he was alone and he could probably get away with anything at this point. And if he was caught, he could just say that his headache made him have delusions and led him through the wrong set of stairs and “oh, sorry, Professor, I really am, it was a mistake, is all.” And they would let him go, because, well, that was one of the perks of being one of the best of his year.
Merlin...
And now was a pretty good time to find out why this voice was in his head. He’d heard the stories, of course, of the wandering ghosts that were neither house spirits nor were they annoying poltergeists, the ones that could enter your mind by whispering in your ear invisibly.
If that was a case, following the voices couldn’t be so bad. Could it?
Merlin, the voice said again, but this time, Merlin straightened himself and tried to find the origin of the voice. Left, he decided. So he turned left, past big doors and cobbled walls, until the voice grew louder and louder, which made him think he was close. He would find this ghost and ask him why he decided to tease him, out of all the students in this school, and maybe find a way for him to stop.
Merlin saw no saw ghost, however, nor did he see any other soul, other than him, or any other sounds but his breathing that was slowly quickening. This was a dark part of the castle, he could tell from the lack of light within it. Perhaps this was where all the unwanted ghosts dwelled, away from the eyes of young students. Yes, that was it. it didn’t house any dangers that could chew little Emrys up and spit him out, no, of course not.
He heard a hiss at the end of the corridor, an ancient sort of hiss, something he studied about but never really thought would be here, if it even was here.
“How small you are,” the voice boomed through the small corridor, shocking every nerve and muscle in his body.
“Who’s there?” Merlin asked.
“Come closer, young warlock,” the voice beckoned.
His body moved against his mind’s will. His body was saying come on, what’s the harm? Where’s your sense of adventure, Emrys? while his mind was so clearly shouting RUN!
Merlin walked towards the voice, as he was instructed, keeping his heart in his mouth at all times, until he finally saw who he was talking to and his heart dropped down until he was sure if he looked down, he would find a bleeding organ on the floor.
It was a dragon.
Well, sort of. There he was, head protruding proudly forward, showing off the golden scales that gleamed in the darkness and the eyes that searched him from his messy hair to his shaking hands. But that was just it. The dragon was just a head, held to the wall like a hunting prize. That didn’t give away any fear, though, the eyes that were on him were enough to induce some scared feelings in him, and the sharp teeth in his mouth helped, too.
“Hello, there,” Merlin managed.
“Hello, Emrys,” the dragon said.
“Why have you been calling me?” Merlin asked.
“Because of your destiny.”
That sentence, it seemed like a joke, because he was only thirteen, there was no way he had a destiny worthy enough of being spoken about by a dragon. Mostly because, last time he checked, dragons didn’t talk.
“My d-destiny?”
“Your destiny, if you choose to accept it, is to protect you and the young Pendragon for the future of the wizarding world.”
“What? I’m sorry, but what?” Merlin was sure he spit out in absolute shock and appal.
“The young Pendragon, Arthur.”
“Are you serious? I’m all for destiny and all but Arthur? If it’s Arthur then I choose not to accept it.”
“Then we are doomed.”
“There’s got to be another Arthur because this one’s an idiot and a prat. An arrogant one, at that.”
“Perhaps it is your destiny to change that,” the dragon said mysteriously.
“No offence and all, but I don’t think you have the right person here. I don’t have any kind of destiny, especially one involving Arthur ‘Prat’ Pendragon, I’m sure of it. there must be someone else, you have to be looking for someone else. I don’t want any trouble.”
“You are the right person, Emrys, to share a destiny with Arthur. You are singularly gifted, after all.”
“Hold on there! I’m not-”
“You are, you always have been and you always will be.”
Merlin didn’t have a veritable comeback for that, mostly because it was cryptic and mysterious and a bit intriguing. Like a treasure map handed to him, except this one led to Arthur and he didn’t know how he felt about that. He also didn’t have an answer because someone else had popped their little protective bubble by asking, “Merlin?” into the darkness.
Merlin turned around and saw a white silhouette walking towards him. “Professor,” he gulped.
Taliesin looked at him and smiled. “What are you doing here all alone, child?” he asked.
Merlin looked back to the dragon, that was stationary now and wasn’t spouting philosophical crap out of the wazoo, then answered, “I was lost, sir.”
“Not curious, then?” Taliesin winked knowingly. “Go, now, I’m sure you’re out of class for a reason.”
“Yeah, of course, sir,” Merlin managed a small smile because he couldn’t not smile in the presence of the Headmaster.
“Are you quite alright, child?” Taliesin asked.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Professor. Just a little...overwhelmed. This headache and all.”
“Of course, now go on then.”
Merlin left the Professor, with burning questions staining his tongue with their intensity.
It seemed like the dragon, and whatever demented life he had been living, was persistent. Not as persistent as he was, because Merlin now had the freedom of his own mind during classes and headaches no longer plagued him. No, the dragon only spoke to him when his eyes diverted from the words on the blackboard, when he looked up while he was walking Freya, when his eyes saw Arthur.
Most girls felt butterflies when they saw Arthur Pendragon but Merlin, he felt a throb in his head. Not butterflies, no, gnats that were swirling around his brain making loud noises he couldn’t stop. It was almost as bad as the fact that he might be sharing a destiny with Arthur.
There were moments when he saw that, maybe, in the slight chance that the dragon was telling the truth, in the madness of it all, that maybe Arthur wasn’t such a bad guy to share a destiny with. Like when he helped that first-year last week, who had been teased and had his books tossed to the floor and Arthur stepped in to defend him against the bullies. Sure, Arthur had gotten detention for it but when the prefects hauled him away, he winked to the first-year as a kind of reassurance.
But, of course, these were just moments of no significance because the dragon was nothing more than a raging old loon in the shape of huge reptile strapped up to the wall.
At least, that was what he thought.
It started off really innocent, he swore. The afternoon was nothing exceptional maybe except for the fact that he finally went to a school Quidditch game, under the force of Leon who was going there with Elena to support Gwaine. Merlin stood at the stand with his Gryffindor flag, wondering what to do because he wasn’t that big of a cheerleader but, after a while, the game sunk in and he couldn’t help whooping whenever their team scored a goal against Hufflepuff.
Arthur was playing Chaser, Leon explained to him, and Lance was a Beater along with Gwaine. He couldn’t help but admire how they flew on their broomsticks so swiftly and managed to hit the Bludger and whatnot with such ferocity. Arthur, however, was lithe in his movements. He had to keep the Quaffle in line and there was almost no goal he couldn’t score.
A Quidditch hero, in the classical sense, Arthur Pendragon was and Merlin couldn’t help the feeling that maybe that fact wasn’t that bad. Being a school jock didn’t always mean you were the school jerk, as well, did it?
He left the pitch with school colours (he didn’t know how but there was always someone that randomly put scarves on you and put a flag in your hand) shivering with post-game excitement. He walked through the corridors, knowing that he had to meet Freya here. She didn’t opt well to going to the game and that was alright. School spirit wasn’t mandatory. He saw her by the pillars and waved.
But before he could even make a move towards her, a shriek was heard at the end of the hallway. Merlin turned his head and saw some girls retreating to the wall or behind their boyfriends’ as some kind of creature roamed the floor.
It was a hideous beast, like someone had lit its face on fire and watched it melt. It was small but it made up for that with pure terror.
He saw the creature approach Arthur and Lance still in their Quidditch uniforms at the other side of the hallway and Merlin felt something. A throb, but it wasn’t in his head this time, no it was in his heart and he felt it all the way to his heart. He’d felt this before, on the train, a year ago, with Arthur, too.
Merlin couldn’t fully explain it but this throb felt serene this time, not like last time, when it was full of rage and anger. And he felt it all and channelled it towards the creature, if that made any sense.
He blacked out, after that. Or he felt like it. He saw nothing but felt and heard everything. He couldn’t move, either, like he was paralyzed. He felt two arms wrap themselves around his body -Freya’s? No, Freya’s arms were small and lithe and she wasn’t wearing her robes on a Sunday afternoon-all the while listening to mismatched chitter-chatter.
“Did you see -?”
“It just burst into flames!”
“Oh, dear, is he alright?”
“Alright? Is he even normal?”
“Shut up! Just, shut up! He saved my life!”
Then there was a long pause, a kind of silence that was tainted with adolescent murmurs. And, then, there was just silence.
When he woke up, it felt like he was sleeping on water. There was a silver light at the end of his vision and he thought it was a fish swimming towards him. Merlin groaned and blinked his eyes, seeing that the water he was sleeping on was just a really comfortable couch and the silver light were a pair of glasses on a brown oak table.
Where was he? It looked like an office, by the looks of it but Merlin had never seen an office with this huge of a space and this extravagant of an interior.
“Ah, you’re awake,” a calm voice interrupted his thoughts. Merlin looked up and saw the Headmaster, smiling at him.
“Professor!” he said, startled.
“Calm down, child, everything’s fine. You just merely fainted in the hallway after expelling a creature and saving a fellow classmate’s life. Rest assured, those who let those creatures free are experiencing a world of punishment. And the classmate you saved is experiencing a life of worry.”
“Sir?”
“Arthur Pendragon was worried sick about you, so was Miss Lake. I had never seen students who despised each other so band together and bring you to safety.”
“What exactly happened?”
“You know what happened. You only ask me that because you want verification of what happened. Mr. Emrys, the verification is your mind and I am led to believe your mind is in a very sane state, despite the trials it’s had to overcome these past few years.”
Merlin looked at Taliesin, wondered how he could be so calm and decided he probably worked on his calmness for years. Who knew what it would be like if Taliesin would actually fear something? Everyone would be terrified.
“But, Professor, how did that happen? I didn’t even use a spell. I had no wand. I set that thing on fire. Isn’t that abnormal?” Merlin asked.
“It’s exceptional,” the Headmaster winked at him.
“I’m sorry?”
“Have you heard of the singularly gifted, Mister Emrys?” Taliesin walked towards his desk, leaving Merlin to stand up and follow behind him like a duck child.
“No,” Merlin answered honestly.
“Of course you haven’t. Let me tell you why. The singularly gifted are exceptionally rare. It is so rare that it is even rarer to have someone know what they are.”
“What are they, then?” Merlin asked, sitting down on the chair at the Professor’s desk.
“They are those who can do magic without wands, without incantations. Their magic is handled through their own bodies instead of being channelled into their wands. Nobody knows why, perhaps it is some Almighty power looking down on us and bestowing this gift to some or maybe it’s an explanation none of us have found yet. The singularly gifted are an anomaly.”
“Sir,” Merlin said, “if they’re so rare, how do you know about them?”
“I know a lot of things that may surprise you, Mister Emrys,” Taliesin winked at him that set off a pool of heat in his chest, wondering what it was he knew, or if, behind those playful eyes, he knew the secrets of the wizarding world.
“And you think I’m singularly gifted?”
“You and another student, yes,” Taliesin nodded, tracing the edge of his desk. “I’m sure you have thought that your magical outbursts were explosions of your young magic and perhaps that is true, we don’t know yet but I feel that you, Merlin Emrys, have been destined to be different, destined for something none of us mere mortals can possibly understand.”
Merlin couldn’t possibly be singularly gifted. He wasn’t special enough for this, to be seated in this chair and be told that his destiny was greater than the one this man, if he was even a human instead of an entity, had. His life had been led for normalcy, a kind of comfort, not any kind of adventure.
“It’s impossible, though, isn’t it?” Merlin asked, hoping this question would let him off the hook. “Being singularly gifted.”
“You should consider yourself impossible, then, Mister Emrys.”
Singularly gifted; wasn’t that what the dragon had said? That he was the right person to share a destiny with Arthur and, when Merlin had doubted that, the dragon had told him he was, he was singularly gifted, after all. It made his mind reel. That and the fact that whatever this was, whatever abnormality he had inside his hands instead of his wand, was used to save Arthur.
Was the dragon telling the truth after all? No, he couldn’t be. It was ridiculous. It was...
Destiny.
PART FOUR
“I almost dread going back to school tomorrow,” Lance whispered into the bedroom.
“And you think I’m not dreading the same thing? All that schoolwork and that annoying poltergeist getting on my nerves and all that na-na-na we get from the professors,” Morgana whined, turning around to look at him.
“And no swimming,” Arthur moaned. Lance didn’t know what Arthur’s fixation about swimming was because they’d been to the pool about five times for the three weeks they’d been here.
“Unless you don’t mind being frozen in the lake,” Lance interjected.
“Not unless you go during the spring. That will be our endeavour this year, friends, swimming in the Great Lake with the giant squid,” Lance could see the mischievous smile through the dim light.
“I’ll add it to the itinerary,” Lance nodded.
“You know you don’t need to whisper. My parents are asleep,” Arthur told him.
“Then why are you whispering?”
“Cause you are.”
“That’s cute.”
The atmosphere around the Pendragon household was generally happy and joyous during the daylight and the same could probably be said about the adolescents during the night, too, even if the grown-ups didn’t know about it.
Just two nights ago, Lance, Morgana and Arthur had successfully pulled a prank on the neighbour Arthur despised. They had made some sort of lever to transport eight Dung-Bombs into the room of said neighbour through the window. They would’ve gotten more, but eight was all Morgana and Lance could find so Arthur had skilfully phrased his words the next morning for his parents to take him to Zonko’s for another supply.
Lance loved being here, though this was the only the first time he’d been here. Mrs. Pendragon always made the nicest breakfasts for them and Mr Pendragon was pretty cool and actually understood his sense of humour, which was more than he could say about Arthur and Morgana sometimes.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like the house, too, because he did. It was big, with fancy black and white tiles, metal vines on the door and a long staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms; Mr and Mrs Pendragon’s and Arthur’s. Arthur’s bedroom looked a bit like his own, with the single bed and the posters on the wall, stuck on with a spell (though his was probably spelled by his parents, unlike Lance’s) and the feeling that, even though it was only occupying one person, it was lively.
But his house was big; too, he was just as privileged to have money as Arthur was.
What Arthur was privileged to have that Lance didn’t was freedom. The Pendragons whole-heartedly accepted Arthur and his friends, and left the three kids to their own devices when they went to work, unlike at his own house where that horrid house elf would make snarling sounds at him and his eyes would shoot through him.
Acceptance was the last thing his own parents would give him unless he swore on Emmy’s life he would marry a nice, pureblood girl. If he could run from that, he would but Elyan still needed him.
Elyan, who seemed like a lost cause already, had stopped sleeping in Lance’s single bed whenever their parents fought, which was every other night, had stopped giving him the scoops of ice-cream he couldn’t finish, had started with the cold shoulder. Seeing his little brother like this physically hurt him and he wondered if he’d made the right choice by spending the last four weeks of summer here instead of with him.
Lance looked at his friends; Arthur directly next to him, his legs pressed against Lance’s bag and Morgana on the extra bed, slowly falling asleep. The light in the room was magic, spelled to go out when all the kids fell asleep so it was still running. It was a nice sight, but his heart was still not complete, however cheesy that sounded.
Someone was missing, someone who had refused Arthur’s invitation to spend a few weeks at his house during the summer, for some godforsaken reason. The same someone all three of them had been reading up on becoming an Animagus for the whole summer.
“I miss Gwen,” Lance proclaimed into the night.
“Me, too, mate,” Arthur said sleepily before he fell soundly asleep.
For once in his life, Arthur Pendragon was anxious - in a good way - to get to the library. The whole summer, since Lance suggested it, he’d been reading up on the art of Transfiguration enough to make Tregor proud of him. Becoming an Animagus, surprisingly, was harder than he’d thought. Becoming an animal by magic, really, it hadn’t sounded that hard when he first heard about it.
The books his father had in his study weren’t really about the dark magical arts, so the help in that department were pretty much nil.
And then there was the question of which animal he could be. He couldn’t be some sort of rodent or something. He had to be something big and bold, fierce and courageous, something that could protect his friends whenever they needed to be protected.
But all these doubts and questions were quickly rushed out of his head when he saw Guinevere on the platform and remembered why he was breaking all the rules and several laws in the first place.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t love doing so- for he did; he was smuggling some stuff onto the Express right now from his personal collection - but he also liked having a reason that didn’t include endeavours to humiliate Freak Lake or attract that nice-looking group of girls in the courtyard. And if anything trumped inducing humiliation and getting the opportunity to suck face in the dark corridors, it was any one of his friends, because that was what friends did for each other.
“Excited, friends?” Arthur asked.
“Mm, very,” Morgana nodded. “The tail is bushy, the eyes are bright.”
“This is a new year,” Arthur helped her put her bags in the overhead compartments. “Which means new adventures.”
“New pranks,” Lance added.
“New ways to have fun,” Morgana supplied.
“Right-o, darlings!” Arthur pumped his fists victoriously.
“And now that we’re third-years, we might score some birds,” Lance shared a mischievous look with Arthur.
“Ew,” Gwen said to him, looking up from her book.
“What? Don’t you find me attractive, Gwenny? Am I not the very picture of tall, dark and handsome?” Lance teased, his face inches from making kissy faces at her.
“Good luck finding someone who’ll put up with you and look past your looks,” Gwen smashed her hand in his face.
“Ah! So you admit I have looks!” Lance pointed at her. “Besides, I am looking for something purely superficial.”
“Har de har har,” Morgana said dryly.
“What’s wrong, Morgs?” Arthur asked.
“I’ll bet you five Galleons that you’ll both have girlfriends by Christmas and I’ll be alone. Forever,” Morgana said sadly. “I’ll be the only one, you know, alone.”
“Hello, I’m perfectly fine with being alone,” Gwen waved her hand, trying to have her presence acknowledged.
“Of course you are, Gwenny, cause you could have one book and decide that having significant others would never come close to the gratifying experience,” Morgana said, managing, somehow, to make it sound like a compliment and an insult at the same time.
Lance snickered- which got him a smack on the arm from Gwen -while Arthur gave Morgana a Pumpkin Pastie and a pat on the back. He didn’t know why he would even think that no one would want her because she was slowly growing into quite a nice-looking girl. Her hair had grown darker, but her skin was no longer as white as a sheet, it had gained a rosy blush around the cheeks.
Arthur was sure he was going to pay her five Galleons by Christmastime, but she seemed so down and out about it. Girls, he was never to get them, was he?
They were already a month in and they hadn’t been any more informed since they started. The library wasn’t exactly keen on letting the students know about how to become an Animagus. They had tried going to the Restricted Section, but it wasn’t as if they had time to go through every book in the A section when they were already afraid of being caught.
“This is the last resort, isn’t it?” Morgana asked, walking with Arthur and Lance. They had fed Gwen some lie about how they needed to get some extra credit from Tregor.
“Why are you so worried? Tregor loves us,” Arthur said.
“Even we set free the rats we were supposed to Transfigure in class? Even after she saw us putting chocolate frogs on Lake’s seat in the Hall? Or when we accidentally set off a Dung-Bomb outside her office?” Morgana asked.
“Tregor loves us,” Arthur persisted. “Besides, we’ve never done anything directly to her.”
“True,” Lance nodded. “She’ll be suspicious, though.”
“Everyone’s suspicious of us,” Arthur said with a smirk, knocking on Tregor’s office door.
All three of them tried to look as prim and proper as they could -which wasn’t much- except for Lance, who just made his hair messier as the door opened swiftly by itself. It revealed a handsome office with an oak table, shelves full of books and a slender witch spelling the space into neatness.
“Professor?” Morgana asked.
“Miss Lefay,” Tregor smiled at her but her eyes narrowed at the sight of Arthur and Lance, her smile, however, never faltering. “And Misters DuLac and Pendragon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Professor, ma’am, might I just point out how lovely you look this fine afternoon? Why, in this light, you seem positively godly, Miss Tregor. It is a miss, isn’t it?” Lance walked towards her with a sway, making the other two burst into laughter.
“Dispense of the theatrics, Mr Dulac, will you please?” Tregor asked but she did look highly amused. “Where is Miss Leodegrance? I thought the four of you came in a special pack.”
“I fear, Professor, she has grown temporarily bored of our childish antics,” Arthur replied with a straight face.
“Good for her,” Tregor nodded.
“Professor, we have a legitimate question to ask, actually,” Morgana stepped forward.
“Well, in that case, please sit down,” the professor waved her wand and made extra chairs appear for them to sit on.
“We were wondering,” Arthur started, “how one becomes an Animagus.”
“Where did you hear that term? I myself wasn’t scheduled to teach that until next semester,” she asked, intrigued.
The three youngsters looked to each other and replied simultaneously, “We get around.”
“I do not doubt that. Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious, ma’am and since we figured said subject would not be extensively covered by our great Academy library, the only accurate and best source would be you,” Arthur smiled. “Please, Professor? Feed our endless young curiosity?”
She sighed, as if she didn’t want to tell them but Morgana was sure that one of the boys put on their puppy-dog eyes so that she would stop sighing and answer them.
“The art of becoming an Animagus is a delicate and excruciating process. One should not take it so lightly. It requires strenuous amounts of magic and strength from the mind, body and soul. One must be prepared for the task.”
“How do you do it, exactly?”
“You are placed in some sort of trance and you need to be in a high emotional state, tap into your inner animal. In this state, spells are to be recited with such concentration that some might exhaust themselves and faint. The process is repeated several times until the person is comfortable with their inner animal, and soon after, they are sent for some time in solitude to try to Change.”
“That sounds…hard,” Arthur said.
“It is, Mr Pendragon. It is a commitment. One must be sure if they want to undertake it.”
“Why’d you do it, Professor?” Lance asked.
Tregor gave a small laugh then answered, “For knowledge. I sacrifice too much for my work, see.”
“I find it admirable, Professor,” Lance nodded, the honesty of the statement taking the Transfiguration teacher aback.
“Thank you,” she said.
“How long does it take to become one, usually?” Morgana asked, hoping for the best when she did.
“It depends on the wizard. For someone skilled it could take as little as two or three months, but most take years to master becoming an Animagus. Some just give up halfway. That’s part of the reason the Ministry keeps tabs on these people.”
“The Ministry, ma’am?”
“You must register with them to become an Animagus, of course.”
“Ah, of course,” Lance nodded, looking as if these obstacles weren’t new for him.
“Is that all?” Tregor asked, straightening her posture.
“I believe so but I am assuming that if we have further queries about this matter, we can refer to your expertise?” Arthur began to stand.
“You are very welcome to,” Tregor nodded. “I expect you in my class tomorrow morning.”
“Of course and Guinevere as well, if she has stopped hating us.”
“Goodbye Professor,” Lance said in a sad, almost Shakespearean voice. “Until morning then, when I can once again feast on your beauty until my mind, body and soul are satiated.”
“We should probably go before he breaks into a sonnet.” Morgana hauled him up by the shoulders.
“Excellent idea, Miss Lefay,” Tregor said.
As soon as they were out of the office, Morgana started with her objections. She loved Gwen with all her heart, really she did, but before she could even process the whole thing, she’d started out by yelling, “It’s a strenuous process! Years, Arthur! We’d have to register with the Ministry!”
Arthur grasped her shoulders and shook her like he was expecting candy to drop from her. When she stopped, she looked him and Lance in the eye and relaxed her shoulders. “We’re still doing it, aren’t we?”
“Mm-hmm,” Arthur nodded.
Lance muttered under his breath about something to do with, “The things we do for love…”
He might have been imagining it, but it almost seemed like Arthur and Co were ignoring him. For the past few weeks, that was the way it had been. Arthur looked through Merlin like he was the tree in the way of a nice sight, but otherwise there hadn’t been any new taunts or teases coming from him ever since the new school year started.
They looked busy, the three of them; Arthur, Morgana and Lance, as if they were already preparing for their OWLs, which was ridiculous to even think about. The only time the three of them studied harder than they ‘partied’ was days before the exam. Although, usually Merlin would hear Gwen rant on about how they should’ve studied earlier with her and Elena.
But it did look like they were revising, though; the way they were hunched over books and reciting spells under their breath, so much so until Aulfric had snapped Lance’s table with a ruler one lesson.
“Care to share what it was you were muttering silently under your breath to the class?” Aulfric had asked Lance, who usually paid respect to teachers.
“Of course not, Professor,” Lance had answered. “That was why I was muttering it quietly, sir.”
Safe to say, he’d landed detention after that with Morgana who had then opted to make noise as well. It was a moral in their group Merlin had noticed; if one of them got into trouble then they all did.
Regardless of the reason, Merlin was grateful that he could once again spend his afternoons with Freya on the grounds without being interrupted.
Like today; the two of them were sitting on the grass, Merlin on his back and Freya sitting comfortably next to him.
Merlin...
“Yeah?” Merlin’s head snapped up from his book.
“What?” Freya asked.
“You called me?”
“No, I didn’t. I think you’ve been reading too much there, M,” Freya smiled at him.
He was convinced by this and put his book away, saying that they should get inside the castle because it was almost lunchtime. He was utterly convinced, until, that was, he heard it again.
Merlin...
This time he knew it wasn’t Freya’s voice. She was going on about how maybe her mum was going to take her and Merlin - if he wanted - on a countryside trip during the holidays. And besides, this was a different kind of voice. It reminded him of his grandfather; old and wise, maybe smelt a little of tobacco and wood, if a sound could smell like something. It was absurd, he knew, but that was he thought.
Maybe it could smell like blood as well, because old men always had war wounds and stories they couldn’t tell to their young. Regardless, the voice persisted with calling his name.
Over and over his name was called in that a voice that elongated his syllables. It started to haunt him, until Freya stopped and shook him.
“Merlin,” she said. “Are you alright? You look like you’re somewhere else.”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I was,” Merlin nodded, hoping a weak smile might make up for it. It did because she smiled, too, and went on to ask if he wanted to follow them on the trip she was talking about.
This time, he listened as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, a few feet away from Arthur and his friends. Gwen waved and Arthur looked at him nodding curtly at him like a polite gentleman would do to one of his acquaintances. Merlin then wondered if last year’s routine with Arthur’s midnight strolls finally upped Merlin to a more formidable status in Arthur’s eyes.
For the briefest of moments, Arthur locked eyes with Merlin. It almost seemed like an accident, of course it was; Arthur would never look directly at Merlin willingly, just as Merlin wouldn’t want to see the eyes of a spoilt, arrogant prat like that. But, nonetheless, it happened, and Merlin noticed, in that small moment, how Arthur’s eyes looked. They were not the most prominent of blue, but the confidence and strength hidden behind them seemed just as striking.
And in that moment - however small and miniscule, it was in the measure of time and significance - the voice grew louder in his head, until he had to hold it, until he had to break the eye contact he’d established with Arthur Pendragon and yell in almost the same decibel as the voice.
MERLIN!
Tonight was the night. The night they had been thinking about, scheming about, planning for. The night wherein they would sneak into the designated room in the castle, one that was abandoned and filled with cobwebs and no one living would dare enter. They were on friendly terms with the ghosts of Hogwarts anyway so it wouldn’t be much of a problem either way, especially with that annoying Peeves, who had taken a liking to Morgana.
Lance was sure that if it would benefit their plan Morgana would use her wiles on him. She hadn’t exactly answered when he’d brought it up - she had smacked him and Arthur on the head with their History of Magic books and smirked - but he knew she loved Gwen.
Speaking of Gwen, she was sleeping already, setting their plan into motion. They had planned earlier that they would tire her out and make her fall asleep so she wouldn’t know because if there was anything they prided themselves with, it was the fact that they could easily tire someone with their antics.
Lance felt bad for keeping this from her, because this was for her after all, but then he thought about how she easily worried, how her hair frizzed up whenever she was really stressed, and decided they were doing her a favour. Besides, they weren’t going to keep this a secret for long, no of course not; only until they were sure they could do it.
He was the only one in the common room, waiting for Arthur and Morgana to come down and meet him. In less than a moment, Arthur came hopping down the stairs with a blue jacket wrapped around him and Morgana came down from the girls’ dorm with a red robe around her.
“Gwen’s fast asleep,” she told them.
“Fantastic,” Arthur nodded.
“I feel like we’re in a spy movie,” Lance said. “I think we should have codenames.”
“Codenames are cool,” Arthur agreed excitedly. “I could be Alpha Dog.”
“How predictable,” Morgana rolled her eyes.
“Why are you so against manliness, darling?” Lance asked.
“I’m not against manliness. I’m just disgusted by how you two portray it.”
Arthur and Lance then simultaneously posed in their manliest way which, of course, meant kissing their biceps and flashing award-winning smiles each. Morgana laughed at them then hooked her arms around their shoulders.
“Come on, then, boys. Time to go already,” she said.
They all nodded and made sure their wands were in their pockets. Lance pulled up his hood, as Arthur did with his own. They swiftly went through the door, careful not to wake the Fat Lady who was sleeping soundly in her painting.
Lance felt nervous, which was ridiculous because they’d snuck out in the night so many times before, mainly to make pranks and have their share of midnight mishaps. Perhaps he was nervous because of the fact that they had a purpose this time.
They glided along the surface of the marble floor and took the stairs they remembered would leave to the third floor corridor. Once they reached the third floor, they looked this way and that, mainly for surveillance purposes and then started to the right.
The door to the room was locked so Lance whipped out his wand and whispered, “Alohamora,” and heard a click as it opened.
Their room was just as they left it- dark, dingy and dodgy, just perfect for what they were about to. They’d read up on becoming an Animagus the best they could and if they couldn’t do it, they could honestly blame it on not enough resources, rather than for the lack of trying.
Morgana held her wand and recited, “Incendio,” to ignite the candles in the room while Arthur rolled out the old blanket he’d packed on the ground. Lance could do nothing but stand in the middle of the room, waiting anxiously to start. This was only the first time. The feeling would die down once they started doing it more regularly, surely.
Arthur beckoned them to come towards him and they all positioned themselves in a circle, hands held out, the very picture in the book that they’d seen in which they discussed Changing in groups.
“Ready?” Morgana asked, the nervousness clear in her voice.
“Yeah,” Lance nodded.
They recited the spell they had memorized, the one that would help them tap into themselves and find their inner animal. The book said that it was good to recite three times, but Lance found that in the middle of saying it the second time, the words drifted away and he found himself in darkness, right in the middle of his head.
He could still feel everything in the room, the heat from the candles, the cotton of the blanket underneath his feet and could hear the wind, Arthur and Morgana’s breathing, the stillness and silence that still laid over them like a constant spell though he could see nothing but darkness.
Something pulsed in his veins, something grand and worthy of mentioning. Magic, he decided; that was it. It felt golden, shiny and new all over and Lance almost thought that, in this very moment, if someone were to cut him open, he would spill out golden, magical blood like the Greek gods.
Then, suddenly, gold cascaded into the darkness, a whole wave of it slowly petering away, like there was a hole somewhere in the dark and the gold was trying to get out. It went away until two large circles remained.
Lance realized they weren’t just circles but they were eyes. Yes, they were eyes, two large, golden eyes that were staring back at him. They inched closer and closer.
All of sudden, his atmosphere disappeared. The candles, the blankets, Arthur and Morgana were gone and now he heard an animalistic sound at the back of his head. He wanted to turn and see what it was, but no, he couldn’t; the eyes were still looking at him and he dreaded to think what would happened if he turned away.
Something started growing on his forearms. It was like the little hairs on his arms were growing, really growing. It was like -there was a word for it, he was sure. It was like...fur.
The spell was recited again and Lance started, blinking his eyes open. The golden eyes disappeared, so did the fur, but he found that he was no longer in a standing position, he was crouched down on the ground, on all fours. Arthur was standing but he was in a straight stature, which was odd for him and Morgana was sitting on the ground, her hands clasped together.
“That was...” Arthur said, “really weird.”
This was getting ridiculous. It was fine, at first, once or twice a day, like an expected annoyance. But, now, it was costing him huge blocks of time where everything turned black and he could no longer account for anything. It was throbbing voice, one that caused headaches and blackouts.
Freya worried for him, probably more than he worried for himself, especially in the classes where Gryffindor and Slyhterin weren’t classmates. She looked at him like a helpless infant and he wasn’t going to lie; he felt like it sometimes.
It got so bad until he was excused from History of Magic and was told -nay, ordered- to take some time and lie in bed on his back looking at the ceiling. Now, Merlin Emrys was walking the long hallways of the Academy, alone, while the other students were busy learning what he should be learning, as well, towards his dormitory.
He supposed any other student would’ve taken the opportunity to explore the school and he also supposed he would do the same if he wasn’t so tired. It made him look like a buzzkill, he knew, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t at the standard of Arthur Pendragon and his gang but he wasn’t very goody, either.
The Academy was beautiful, though, and there was a beating drum at the back of his head when he realized he was alone and he could probably get away with anything at this point. And if he was caught, he could just say that his headache made him have delusions and led him through the wrong set of stairs and “oh, sorry, Professor, I really am, it was a mistake, is all.” And they would let him go, because, well, that was one of the perks of being one of the best of his year.
Merlin...
And now was a pretty good time to find out why this voice was in his head. He’d heard the stories, of course, of the wandering ghosts that were neither house spirits nor were they annoying poltergeists, the ones that could enter your mind by whispering in your ear invisibly.
If that was a case, following the voices couldn’t be so bad. Could it?
Merlin, the voice said again, but this time, Merlin straightened himself and tried to find the origin of the voice. Left, he decided. So he turned left, past big doors and cobbled walls, until the voice grew louder and louder, which made him think he was close. He would find this ghost and ask him why he decided to tease him, out of all the students in this school, and maybe find a way for him to stop.
Merlin saw no saw ghost, however, nor did he see any other soul, other than him, or any other sounds but his breathing that was slowly quickening. This was a dark part of the castle, he could tell from the lack of light within it. Perhaps this was where all the unwanted ghosts dwelled, away from the eyes of young students. Yes, that was it. it didn’t house any dangers that could chew little Emrys up and spit him out, no, of course not.
He heard a hiss at the end of the corridor, an ancient sort of hiss, something he studied about but never really thought would be here, if it even was here.
“How small you are,” the voice boomed through the small corridor, shocking every nerve and muscle in his body.
“Who’s there?” Merlin asked.
“Come closer, young warlock,” the voice beckoned.
His body moved against his mind’s will. His body was saying come on, what’s the harm? Where’s your sense of adventure, Emrys? while his mind was so clearly shouting RUN!
Merlin walked towards the voice, as he was instructed, keeping his heart in his mouth at all times, until he finally saw who he was talking to and his heart dropped down until he was sure if he looked down, he would find a bleeding organ on the floor.
It was a dragon.
Well, sort of. There he was, head protruding proudly forward, showing off the golden scales that gleamed in the darkness and the eyes that searched him from his messy hair to his shaking hands. But that was just it. The dragon was just a head, held to the wall like a hunting prize. That didn’t give away any fear, though, the eyes that were on him were enough to induce some scared feelings in him, and the sharp teeth in his mouth helped, too.
“Hello, there,” Merlin managed.
“Hello, Emrys,” the dragon said.
“Why have you been calling me?” Merlin asked.
“Because of your destiny.”
That sentence, it seemed like a joke, because he was only thirteen, there was no way he had a destiny worthy enough of being spoken about by a dragon. Mostly because, last time he checked, dragons didn’t talk.
“My d-destiny?”
“Your destiny, if you choose to accept it, is to protect you and the young Pendragon for the future of the wizarding world.”
“What? I’m sorry, but what?” Merlin was sure he spit out in absolute shock and appal.
“The young Pendragon, Arthur.”
“Are you serious? I’m all for destiny and all but Arthur? If it’s Arthur then I choose not to accept it.”
“Then we are doomed.”
“There’s got to be another Arthur because this one’s an idiot and a prat. An arrogant one, at that.”
“Perhaps it is your destiny to change that,” the dragon said mysteriously.
“No offence and all, but I don’t think you have the right person here. I don’t have any kind of destiny, especially one involving Arthur ‘Prat’ Pendragon, I’m sure of it. there must be someone else, you have to be looking for someone else. I don’t want any trouble.”
“You are the right person, Emrys, to share a destiny with Arthur. You are singularly gifted, after all.”
“Hold on there! I’m not-”
“You are, you always have been and you always will be.”
Merlin didn’t have a veritable comeback for that, mostly because it was cryptic and mysterious and a bit intriguing. Like a treasure map handed to him, except this one led to Arthur and he didn’t know how he felt about that. He also didn’t have an answer because someone else had popped their little protective bubble by asking, “Merlin?” into the darkness.
Merlin turned around and saw a white silhouette walking towards him. “Professor,” he gulped.
Taliesin looked at him and smiled. “What are you doing here all alone, child?” he asked.
Merlin looked back to the dragon, that was stationary now and wasn’t spouting philosophical crap out of the wazoo, then answered, “I was lost, sir.”
“Not curious, then?” Taliesin winked knowingly. “Go, now, I’m sure you’re out of class for a reason.”
“Yeah, of course, sir,” Merlin managed a small smile because he couldn’t not smile in the presence of the Headmaster.
“Are you quite alright, child?” Taliesin asked.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Professor. Just a little...overwhelmed. This headache and all.”
“Of course, now go on then.”
Merlin left the Professor, with burning questions staining his tongue with their intensity.
It seemed like the dragon, and whatever demented life he had been living, was persistent. Not as persistent as he was, because Merlin now had the freedom of his own mind during classes and headaches no longer plagued him. No, the dragon only spoke to him when his eyes diverted from the words on the blackboard, when he looked up while he was walking Freya, when his eyes saw Arthur.
Most girls felt butterflies when they saw Arthur Pendragon but Merlin, he felt a throb in his head. Not butterflies, no, gnats that were swirling around his brain making loud noises he couldn’t stop. It was almost as bad as the fact that he might be sharing a destiny with Arthur.
There were moments when he saw that, maybe, in the slight chance that the dragon was telling the truth, in the madness of it all, that maybe Arthur wasn’t such a bad guy to share a destiny with. Like when he helped that first-year last week, who had been teased and had his books tossed to the floor and Arthur stepped in to defend him against the bullies. Sure, Arthur had gotten detention for it but when the prefects hauled him away, he winked to the first-year as a kind of reassurance.
But, of course, these were just moments of no significance because the dragon was nothing more than a raging old loon in the shape of huge reptile strapped up to the wall.
At least, that was what he thought.
It started off really innocent, he swore. The afternoon was nothing exceptional maybe except for the fact that he finally went to a school Quidditch game, under the force of Leon who was going there with Elena to support Gwaine. Merlin stood at the stand with his Gryffindor flag, wondering what to do because he wasn’t that big of a cheerleader but, after a while, the game sunk in and he couldn’t help whooping whenever their team scored a goal against Hufflepuff.
Arthur was playing Chaser, Leon explained to him, and Lance was a Beater along with Gwaine. He couldn’t help but admire how they flew on their broomsticks so swiftly and managed to hit the Bludger and whatnot with such ferocity. Arthur, however, was lithe in his movements. He had to keep the Quaffle in line and there was almost no goal he couldn’t score.
A Quidditch hero, in the classical sense, Arthur Pendragon was and Merlin couldn’t help the feeling that maybe that fact wasn’t that bad. Being a school jock didn’t always mean you were the school jerk, as well, did it?
He left the pitch with school colours (he didn’t know how but there was always someone that randomly put scarves on you and put a flag in your hand) shivering with post-game excitement. He walked through the corridors, knowing that he had to meet Freya here. She didn’t opt well to going to the game and that was alright. School spirit wasn’t mandatory. He saw her by the pillars and waved.
But before he could even make a move towards her, a shriek was heard at the end of the hallway. Merlin turned his head and saw some girls retreating to the wall or behind their boyfriends’ as some kind of creature roamed the floor.
It was a hideous beast, like someone had lit its face on fire and watched it melt. It was small but it made up for that with pure terror.
He saw the creature approach Arthur and Lance still in their Quidditch uniforms at the other side of the hallway and Merlin felt something. A throb, but it wasn’t in his head this time, no it was in his heart and he felt it all the way to his heart. He’d felt this before, on the train, a year ago, with Arthur, too.
Merlin couldn’t fully explain it but this throb felt serene this time, not like last time, when it was full of rage and anger. And he felt it all and channelled it towards the creature, if that made any sense.
He blacked out, after that. Or he felt like it. He saw nothing but felt and heard everything. He couldn’t move, either, like he was paralyzed. He felt two arms wrap themselves around his body -Freya’s? No, Freya’s arms were small and lithe and she wasn’t wearing her robes on a Sunday afternoon-all the while listening to mismatched chitter-chatter.
“Did you see -?”
“It just burst into flames!”
“Oh, dear, is he alright?”
“Alright? Is he even normal?”
“Shut up! Just, shut up! He saved my life!”
Then there was a long pause, a kind of silence that was tainted with adolescent murmurs. And, then, there was just silence.
When he woke up, it felt like he was sleeping on water. There was a silver light at the end of his vision and he thought it was a fish swimming towards him. Merlin groaned and blinked his eyes, seeing that the water he was sleeping on was just a really comfortable couch and the silver light were a pair of glasses on a brown oak table.
Where was he? It looked like an office, by the looks of it but Merlin had never seen an office with this huge of a space and this extravagant of an interior.
“Ah, you’re awake,” a calm voice interrupted his thoughts. Merlin looked up and saw the Headmaster, smiling at him.
“Professor!” he said, startled.
“Calm down, child, everything’s fine. You just merely fainted in the hallway after expelling a creature and saving a fellow classmate’s life. Rest assured, those who let those creatures free are experiencing a world of punishment. And the classmate you saved is experiencing a life of worry.”
“Sir?”
“Arthur Pendragon was worried sick about you, so was Miss Lake. I had never seen students who despised each other so band together and bring you to safety.”
“What exactly happened?”
“You know what happened. You only ask me that because you want verification of what happened. Mr. Emrys, the verification is your mind and I am led to believe your mind is in a very sane state, despite the trials it’s had to overcome these past few years.”
Merlin looked at Taliesin, wondered how he could be so calm and decided he probably worked on his calmness for years. Who knew what it would be like if Taliesin would actually fear something? Everyone would be terrified.
“But, Professor, how did that happen? I didn’t even use a spell. I had no wand. I set that thing on fire. Isn’t that abnormal?” Merlin asked.
“It’s exceptional,” the Headmaster winked at him.
“I’m sorry?”
“Have you heard of the singularly gifted, Mister Emrys?” Taliesin walked towards his desk, leaving Merlin to stand up and follow behind him like a duck child.
“No,” Merlin answered honestly.
“Of course you haven’t. Let me tell you why. The singularly gifted are exceptionally rare. It is so rare that it is even rarer to have someone know what they are.”
“What are they, then?” Merlin asked, sitting down on the chair at the Professor’s desk.
“They are those who can do magic without wands, without incantations. Their magic is handled through their own bodies instead of being channelled into their wands. Nobody knows why, perhaps it is some Almighty power looking down on us and bestowing this gift to some or maybe it’s an explanation none of us have found yet. The singularly gifted are an anomaly.”
“Sir,” Merlin said, “if they’re so rare, how do you know about them?”
“I know a lot of things that may surprise you, Mister Emrys,” Taliesin winked at him that set off a pool of heat in his chest, wondering what it was he knew, or if, behind those playful eyes, he knew the secrets of the wizarding world.
“And you think I’m singularly gifted?”
“You and another student, yes,” Taliesin nodded, tracing the edge of his desk. “I’m sure you have thought that your magical outbursts were explosions of your young magic and perhaps that is true, we don’t know yet but I feel that you, Merlin Emrys, have been destined to be different, destined for something none of us mere mortals can possibly understand.”
Merlin couldn’t possibly be singularly gifted. He wasn’t special enough for this, to be seated in this chair and be told that his destiny was greater than the one this man, if he was even a human instead of an entity, had. His life had been led for normalcy, a kind of comfort, not any kind of adventure.
“It’s impossible, though, isn’t it?” Merlin asked, hoping this question would let him off the hook. “Being singularly gifted.”
“You should consider yourself impossible, then, Mister Emrys.”
Singularly gifted; wasn’t that what the dragon had said? That he was the right person to share a destiny with Arthur and, when Merlin had doubted that, the dragon had told him he was, he was singularly gifted, after all. It made his mind reel. That and the fact that whatever this was, whatever abnormality he had inside his hands instead of his wand, was used to save Arthur.
Was the dragon telling the truth after all? No, he couldn’t be. It was ridiculous. It was...
Destiny.
PART FOUR