Merlin/Harry Potter: Voldemort's Miss-Understanding (8/?)
Title: Voldemort's Miss-Understanding
Summary
In which Voldemort’s plan goes a bit wrong (again.) and Merlin, along with Gwaine and Arthur, finds herself in a world where everybody is convinced that she has a beard. Huh? (Gwaine/fem!Merlin; Arthur/Gwen).
Disclaimer I own nothing. Unfortunately.
Chapter Eight: In Which The First Half Of The Year Goes By With Startling Quickness
It wasn’t often that Merlin met somebody she genuinely disliked. Of course, there were exceptions. People out to kill Arthur, for instance. But, for the most part, she got along well with everybody and, unless she had good reason not to, she gave people the benefit of the doubt
Merlin had good reason to dislike Professor Umbridge.
Merlin’s impression of Umbridge at the feast was proved correct the following day, during her first Defense class. Other students had been whispering about the new (horrible) professor almost all day, so when Merlin arrived in class, she was somewhat prepared.
Or maybe not.
All this theory nonsense, with no practical application, seemed ridiculous to her, and it was during dinner that night that she was proven right.
Merlin had taken to sitting in the Gryffindor table with Hermione, Ron, and Harry. It had at first earned them some strange looks, but glares from Arthur and Gwaine (who had become surprisingly popular in their few days at Hogwarts) shut everybody up
“It’s all because of this business with the Ministry,” Hermione fumed. “They’re worried that Dumbledore is going to overthrow them or something.”
Even Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at this.
And, within a few weeks, Merlin had learned three things.
One: that Harry had a lot of detentions with Umbridge.
Two: Detentions with Umbridge were not fun. But nobody in the school was really willing to talk about them or go to Dumbledore.
Three: Merlin really didn’t like blood quills.
This last bit of information was something Merlin picked up while in detention with the toad herself. Merlin had been walking down the corridor with Gwaine, just enjoying each other’s company. Hogwarts was keeping them rather busy, so they didn’t see each other as often as they liked.
Merlin was asking him about how Arthur was holding up when Gwaine stopped and, grabbing her hand, twirled her to face him.
“What are you doing?” she laughed. Gwaine’s response was to kiss her.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked her with a smirk when they parted.
Before Merlin could think of a witty retort, a high, screeching voice interrupted them
“And what are you two up to?”
It was Umbridge.
Gwaine, on instinct, stepped subtly in front of Merlin, an obvious sign of protection.
“We were taking a walk,” Gwaine said firmly.
“That didn’t look like walking to me,” Umbridge giggled. “It looked kissing.”
Merlin scowled. She was fed up with Umbridge- with her high pitched voice and her vendetta against Harry who, as far as Merlin could tell, was a very nice young man. Most of all, Merlin never reacted well to pompous, condescending behavior by authority figures.
See: Pendragon, Arthur.
“Well, what do you know about kissing? It’s not as though you have any first-hand experience, professor.” It was the sort of biting remark that she would’ve given Arthur, had it been him. Arthur, however, would’ve laughed at her or argued back.
Umbridge did none of this. Instead, her face seemed to pinch a bit. “Disrespecting a professor. Take away ten house points. And I will see you in detention in my office tomorrow night at this time, Miss Frey. Now, I suggest you get back to your dorms posthaste. Good night.”
Needless to say, Arthur and Gwaine were not thrilled with this turn of events
“Are you out of your mind?” Arthur had demanded, irate, in the Great Hall. “Or are you just that stupid?”
“I’m neither,” Merlin said hotly. “It’ll be fine, alright. What’s the worst she could do to me that I haven’t done with you before?”
“She could poison you,” Gwaine pointed out
Merlin’s response was, “Done that.”
At Gwaine’s jaw dropping, Merlin rolled her eyes. “Get Arthur to tell you that story, will you? I have to go now or I’ll be late.”
And that was how Merlin found herself in one of the most horrifying rooms in the school (Umbridge’s office) with Harry (who was also in detention- again) writing lines.
Umbridge told her that she would write, “I will not talk back,” which Merlin found slightly hilarious, since talking back was all she had ever done and if Arthur, despite his years of trying, hadn’t been able to make her stop (with his chores and his training sessions and time in the stocks and useless hunts), what made her think that she’d be able to do it?
That’s when Merlin used a blood-quill for the first time and realized exactly how Umbridge planned on doing it
Merlin soon last track of how much time she spent in the detention room carving out “I will not talk back” onto her hand. All she did know was that the more she did it, the worse her hand hurt and the more her stomach churned. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it- and wasn’t that saying something, since she had taken quite a bit over the years- Umbridge interrupted.
“You may put your quills down.”
Resisting the urge to sigh, Merlin put her quill down and snuck a glance at Harry, who looked just as tired, but no less determined, as she did.
“I hope you have both learned your lessons,” Umbridge warned shrilly. Harry sat stone faced, staring at the walls. Merlin, on the other hand, felt her fists clench angrily and did her best to not say something to Umbridge. As satisfying as it would be, Merlin didn’t fancy another detention.
In fact, all she wanted to do right now was lay down. If it wasn’t for the fact that she would be giving Umbridge immense satisfaction, Merlin would’ve vomited there and then. For a moment, she did enjoy the visual image for throwing up on Umbridge’s alarmingly pink dress.
“You are dismissed,” Umbridge said, completely unaware of how close she had come to being covered in vomit. Merlin grabbed her things and shot out of the classroom as quickly as she could. One she was satisfied that she was far enough away (just around a corner), she leaned against the walls and took several deep breaths
Everything was spinning.
She did manage to make out hurried footsteps coming from behind her, but couldn’t be bothered to see who it was
“Sod off, Umbridge,” she managed to wheeze out, worried that it was the toad again. She didn’t really care about another detention at this point. She just wanted to be left alone.
“It’s me. Harry, I mean,” said Harry. He came around so he could get a better look at her face. “Are you alright?”
That was the moment that Merlin’s stomach gave in (or gave out, she supposed) and Merlin vomited all over the floor. If Harry had been any slower, he probably would’ve gotten some on his shoes. As it was, he darted away and watched her heave with an expression that was equal mixes of disgust and sympathy.
“Sorry,” Merlin said, her throat feeling raw. “I didn’t- Ah.”
The floor was a mess and it stunk rather horribly. Harry had taken his tie and was holding it in front of his nose and mouth to block the smell.
“You don’t know how to get rid of it, do you?” He asked her.
“I think so,” Merlin muttered. She fumbled with her wand, her hands still shaky, and managed to get rid of the vomit without using her magic as she normally would. The Latin spell felt strange on her tongue, as they all did, and her magic didn’t seem to want to cooperate at first, but eventually it did, like always. Merlin had quickly realized that using her wand was simply a matter of getting used to the strangeness of her magic
erlin sighed. “I guess that’s that then.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Harry asked.
Merlin nodded slowly. “I think so. But, Harry, are the detentions always that bad?”
“They hurt my hand a lot,” Harry said, “But I’ve never thrown up or anything. And she’s had me in there all day before.”
“She doesn’t like you much,” Merlin said.
Harry shrugged. “I won’t lie about what I saw. No matter how much I get hated for it.”
“I understand,” Merlin said immediately. “The Slytherins aren’t too happy with me because of how much time I spend with Arthur and Gwaine, but I knew them first and they’ve never let me down before, so I won’t let them down now.”
After that, an awkward silence descended
Merlin said, “Well, I suppose what’s done is done. I need to go meet up with Snape-”
“He’s still making you see him at this time of night?” Harry gaped.
“He said detention was no excuse,” Merlin shrugged. “Say hello to Gwaine and Arthur for me, will you?”
“Of course,” Harry said diplomatically.
Merlin bid Harry a goodnight and headed towards Snape’s office. Hogwarts was still massive, but thankfully Merlin had started to figure out her way around. Merlin had a feeling that this was less to do with her own sense of direction and more to do with Hogwarts herself.
Sometimes, when Merlin was completely and utterly lost, she’d feel a small nudge of sorts, guiding her in the right direction.
Thankfully, Merlin got to the dungeons fairly quickly, and she prayed to any god that would hear her that Snape had a short lesson planned.
Much to her disappointment, he wasn’t in his office when she got there, meaning that she would have to wait for him. She just wanted to sleep
Deciding that she might as well make use of the opportunity, Merlin sat down and carefully rolled her sleeve up, wincing as some threads caught on her skin. The cut made by the blood quill was still bleeding, although not as heavily as before, and the skin surrounding it was pink with irritation. Merlin pulled off her tie and used it to bind the wound. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do in a pinch.
f Merlin didn’t do something to it soon, it ran the risk of infection. Back in Camelot, Merlin could’ve easily made a poultice out of some yarrow-
Or Arrowroot, Merlin thought, eyes zooming in the label of a drawer in a cabinet. Merlin looked around even though she knew there was nobody in the room with her. Then, straining her ears to make sure that Snape wasn’t on his way, she let her magic (none of this wand business) reach out and open the drawer. A small bundle of arrowroot- just enough for her to use- flew out into Merlin’s now outstretched hand. She had just seconds to pack it away inside one of her pockets before the door opened and Snape walked in.
He paused and looked around the room suspiciously and Merlin held her breath. Then, out of nowhere, it seemed, he launched into the lesson, leaving Merlin scrambling. Honestly, if she wasn’t so used to Arthur’s unpredictable moods, Snape would’ve given her whiplash by now
Her lesson ended far more quickly than normal. Merlin suspected that this had to do with the late hour and Merlin’s detention. No matter what anybody said, Snape did have the well-being of all his students at heart. As Merlin gratefully packed up her things and got ready to leave,
Snape called her back.
“Yes, professor?”
“The next time you get caught stealing from me,” Snape warned, “The consequences will be far more severe.”
Merlin caught his delicate phrasing and resolved not to leave the draw open the next time.
The next morning, Merlin found Gwaine sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Arthur oddly absent.
As she took her seat, she asked Gwaine, “Where’s Arthur?”
Her voice was still thick with sleep. When she had finally made it back to her dorm last night, she had prepared an arrowroot poultice as best she could and placed it on her hand, wrapping it tightly in her neckerchief, which, for the time being, had been stowed away at the bottom of her clothes trunk.
Checking her hand when she woke up, she was pleased to see that it had stopped bleeding and that most of the irritation was gone. However, her hand still burned something horrible, a pain that had kept her up almost all night, and it looked as though the marks were going to scar, which Merlin found rather strange. Merlin had caught a good enough glimpse of Harry’s hand to see that it was going to scar, but that was reasonable because he’d had enough detentions. Merlin only had one.
So when Gwaine said, “Arthur’s not feeling too well,” she snorted.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
“Dunno,” Gwaine said, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was rummaging through his bag for something. “Neither of us could sleep last night.
Just felt strange. I headed over to the library, though, to see if I could find something for you. Here!”
He pulled out a large, worn book from his bag, and Merlin’s eyebrows rose up so high she could’ve given Gaius a run for his money. “You broke curfew? To go to the library?”
“I wanted to find out more about those quill things Umbridge’s been using during detention,” Gwaine said. He placed the book on the table and started to flip through the pages, clearly looking for one in particular
“How did you know about the quills?” Merlin accused.
Gwaine looked sharply at her injured hand as he said, “Harry told Arthur and I last night. Now where-?”
He flipped through a few more pages until he landed on one with a triumphant shout. He handed her the book and she looked at the title on the page.
“Blood quills,” she muttered to herself. She skimmed the article. At first, it didn’t tell her anything she didn’t know: it wrote with the user’s blood, carved words into the user’s hand, etc. Then, she noticed something interesting. Aloud, she read, “The Dark magic in the quill has been known to react to the light magic in some wizards. This effect is rare and has been reported only in wizards of significant magical ability.”
“That explains a lot,” Merlin said, more to herself than Gwaine. Then, for his benefit, she added, “My hand still hurts, even though I put a poultice on it, and it explains why none of us have been feeling well.”
“What does your magic have to do with us not feeling well?” Gwaine whispered, making sure nobody would overhear.
Merlin, in a similar volume, said, “Your magic is my magic. When were traveling here, I guess I sort of panicked and tried to use my magic to protect you and it sort of got all tangled up.”
“What got all tangled up?” Merlin almost hurt her neck with the speed with which she turned her neck to see Arthur, who did look very tired, she admitted, approach.
As he sat down next to her, she said, “Oh. My hair. It got all tangled up last night.”
Arthur looked at it critically and said, “Yes, well, your hair always looks like a bird’s nest, so how can you tell the difference?”
“Excuse me!” Merlin protested. “Not all of us spend hours in front of the mirror every morning!”
“I do not!” Arthur snapped.
Merlin said simply, “Yes. You do.”
Arthur hit her hard in the arm, making her squeak in surprise. “Ow! Arthur!”
“Don’t be such a girl’s petticoat,” Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes and piling his plate up with breakfast. Merlin wrinkled her nose.
“Oh, I hate petticoats!” she said, which immediately lead to another argument between Merlin and Arthur
Merlin would grow increasingly grateful for her arguments with Arthur as the weeks progressed. It was one of the few normal things in her life.
Hogwarts, as interesting as it was, was clearly a tense place at the moment.
Slowly but surely, Merlin learned more about Voldemort (or You-Know-Who) and the events between him and Harry this past year. She had already been warned about Sirius’s escape from prison and the Ministry’s vendetta against Harry, but seeing it in action was something else.
Umbridge’s actions eventually got so bad that Harry, Ron, and Hermione formed Dumbledore’s Army, which Merlin had to admit was a great help to her and perfecting her magic.
Despite the secrecy surrounding the DA, Umbridge still managed to find an excuse to ban George and Harry from Quidditch (it was all Draco Malfoy’s fault and honestly, how could he be in the same House as her?).
Umbridge did eventually get a bit of what she deserved with teacher inspections. Watching Snape glare witheringly at Umbridge for over an hour was one of the most marvelous things she had ever seen.
Still, Merlin was looking forward to winter break by the time it rolled around, and she was incredibly excited for it. It did seem, for a moment, as though it wouldn’t be much of a break when Mr. Weasley was attacked, but somehow, he was saved by Harry. Merlin didn’t understand how, but she did see Harry leave Snape’s office a few days before the holidays. He didn’t say anything to her, however. He just hurried past her. Merlin knew better than to ask Snape.
As Merlin sat on the train headed back towards King’s Cross, she couldn’t help but be eager for a nice, long, rest
Unfortunately, she wouldn’t really be getting one.
Summary
In which Voldemort’s plan goes a bit wrong (again.) and Merlin, along with Gwaine and Arthur, finds herself in a world where everybody is convinced that she has a beard. Huh? (Gwaine/fem!Merlin; Arthur/Gwen).
Disclaimer I own nothing. Unfortunately.
Chapter Eight: In Which The First Half Of The Year Goes By With Startling Quickness
It wasn’t often that Merlin met somebody she genuinely disliked. Of course, there were exceptions. People out to kill Arthur, for instance. But, for the most part, she got along well with everybody and, unless she had good reason not to, she gave people the benefit of the doubt
Merlin had good reason to dislike Professor Umbridge.
Merlin’s impression of Umbridge at the feast was proved correct the following day, during her first Defense class. Other students had been whispering about the new (horrible) professor almost all day, so when Merlin arrived in class, she was somewhat prepared.
Or maybe not.
All this theory nonsense, with no practical application, seemed ridiculous to her, and it was during dinner that night that she was proven right.
Merlin had taken to sitting in the Gryffindor table with Hermione, Ron, and Harry. It had at first earned them some strange looks, but glares from Arthur and Gwaine (who had become surprisingly popular in their few days at Hogwarts) shut everybody up
“It’s all because of this business with the Ministry,” Hermione fumed. “They’re worried that Dumbledore is going to overthrow them or something.”
Even Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at this.
And, within a few weeks, Merlin had learned three things.
One: that Harry had a lot of detentions with Umbridge.
Two: Detentions with Umbridge were not fun. But nobody in the school was really willing to talk about them or go to Dumbledore.
Three: Merlin really didn’t like blood quills.
This last bit of information was something Merlin picked up while in detention with the toad herself. Merlin had been walking down the corridor with Gwaine, just enjoying each other’s company. Hogwarts was keeping them rather busy, so they didn’t see each other as often as they liked.
Merlin was asking him about how Arthur was holding up when Gwaine stopped and, grabbing her hand, twirled her to face him.
“What are you doing?” she laughed. Gwaine’s response was to kiss her.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked her with a smirk when they parted.
Before Merlin could think of a witty retort, a high, screeching voice interrupted them
“And what are you two up to?”
It was Umbridge.
Gwaine, on instinct, stepped subtly in front of Merlin, an obvious sign of protection.
“We were taking a walk,” Gwaine said firmly.
“That didn’t look like walking to me,” Umbridge giggled. “It looked kissing.”
Merlin scowled. She was fed up with Umbridge- with her high pitched voice and her vendetta against Harry who, as far as Merlin could tell, was a very nice young man. Most of all, Merlin never reacted well to pompous, condescending behavior by authority figures.
See: Pendragon, Arthur.
“Well, what do you know about kissing? It’s not as though you have any first-hand experience, professor.” It was the sort of biting remark that she would’ve given Arthur, had it been him. Arthur, however, would’ve laughed at her or argued back.
Umbridge did none of this. Instead, her face seemed to pinch a bit. “Disrespecting a professor. Take away ten house points. And I will see you in detention in my office tomorrow night at this time, Miss Frey. Now, I suggest you get back to your dorms posthaste. Good night.”
Needless to say, Arthur and Gwaine were not thrilled with this turn of events
“Are you out of your mind?” Arthur had demanded, irate, in the Great Hall. “Or are you just that stupid?”
“I’m neither,” Merlin said hotly. “It’ll be fine, alright. What’s the worst she could do to me that I haven’t done with you before?”
“She could poison you,” Gwaine pointed out
Merlin’s response was, “Done that.”
At Gwaine’s jaw dropping, Merlin rolled her eyes. “Get Arthur to tell you that story, will you? I have to go now or I’ll be late.”
And that was how Merlin found herself in one of the most horrifying rooms in the school (Umbridge’s office) with Harry (who was also in detention- again) writing lines.
Umbridge told her that she would write, “I will not talk back,” which Merlin found slightly hilarious, since talking back was all she had ever done and if Arthur, despite his years of trying, hadn’t been able to make her stop (with his chores and his training sessions and time in the stocks and useless hunts), what made her think that she’d be able to do it?
That’s when Merlin used a blood-quill for the first time and realized exactly how Umbridge planned on doing it
Merlin soon last track of how much time she spent in the detention room carving out “I will not talk back” onto her hand. All she did know was that the more she did it, the worse her hand hurt and the more her stomach churned. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it- and wasn’t that saying something, since she had taken quite a bit over the years- Umbridge interrupted.
“You may put your quills down.”
Resisting the urge to sigh, Merlin put her quill down and snuck a glance at Harry, who looked just as tired, but no less determined, as she did.
“I hope you have both learned your lessons,” Umbridge warned shrilly. Harry sat stone faced, staring at the walls. Merlin, on the other hand, felt her fists clench angrily and did her best to not say something to Umbridge. As satisfying as it would be, Merlin didn’t fancy another detention.
In fact, all she wanted to do right now was lay down. If it wasn’t for the fact that she would be giving Umbridge immense satisfaction, Merlin would’ve vomited there and then. For a moment, she did enjoy the visual image for throwing up on Umbridge’s alarmingly pink dress.
“You are dismissed,” Umbridge said, completely unaware of how close she had come to being covered in vomit. Merlin grabbed her things and shot out of the classroom as quickly as she could. One she was satisfied that she was far enough away (just around a corner), she leaned against the walls and took several deep breaths
Everything was spinning.
She did manage to make out hurried footsteps coming from behind her, but couldn’t be bothered to see who it was
“Sod off, Umbridge,” she managed to wheeze out, worried that it was the toad again. She didn’t really care about another detention at this point. She just wanted to be left alone.
“It’s me. Harry, I mean,” said Harry. He came around so he could get a better look at her face. “Are you alright?”
That was the moment that Merlin’s stomach gave in (or gave out, she supposed) and Merlin vomited all over the floor. If Harry had been any slower, he probably would’ve gotten some on his shoes. As it was, he darted away and watched her heave with an expression that was equal mixes of disgust and sympathy.
“Sorry,” Merlin said, her throat feeling raw. “I didn’t- Ah.”
The floor was a mess and it stunk rather horribly. Harry had taken his tie and was holding it in front of his nose and mouth to block the smell.
“You don’t know how to get rid of it, do you?” He asked her.
“I think so,” Merlin muttered. She fumbled with her wand, her hands still shaky, and managed to get rid of the vomit without using her magic as she normally would. The Latin spell felt strange on her tongue, as they all did, and her magic didn’t seem to want to cooperate at first, but eventually it did, like always. Merlin had quickly realized that using her wand was simply a matter of getting used to the strangeness of her magic
erlin sighed. “I guess that’s that then.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Harry asked.
Merlin nodded slowly. “I think so. But, Harry, are the detentions always that bad?”
“They hurt my hand a lot,” Harry said, “But I’ve never thrown up or anything. And she’s had me in there all day before.”
“She doesn’t like you much,” Merlin said.
Harry shrugged. “I won’t lie about what I saw. No matter how much I get hated for it.”
“I understand,” Merlin said immediately. “The Slytherins aren’t too happy with me because of how much time I spend with Arthur and Gwaine, but I knew them first and they’ve never let me down before, so I won’t let them down now.”
After that, an awkward silence descended
Merlin said, “Well, I suppose what’s done is done. I need to go meet up with Snape-”
“He’s still making you see him at this time of night?” Harry gaped.
“He said detention was no excuse,” Merlin shrugged. “Say hello to Gwaine and Arthur for me, will you?”
“Of course,” Harry said diplomatically.
Merlin bid Harry a goodnight and headed towards Snape’s office. Hogwarts was still massive, but thankfully Merlin had started to figure out her way around. Merlin had a feeling that this was less to do with her own sense of direction and more to do with Hogwarts herself.
Sometimes, when Merlin was completely and utterly lost, she’d feel a small nudge of sorts, guiding her in the right direction.
Thankfully, Merlin got to the dungeons fairly quickly, and she prayed to any god that would hear her that Snape had a short lesson planned.
Much to her disappointment, he wasn’t in his office when she got there, meaning that she would have to wait for him. She just wanted to sleep
Deciding that she might as well make use of the opportunity, Merlin sat down and carefully rolled her sleeve up, wincing as some threads caught on her skin. The cut made by the blood quill was still bleeding, although not as heavily as before, and the skin surrounding it was pink with irritation. Merlin pulled off her tie and used it to bind the wound. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do in a pinch.
f Merlin didn’t do something to it soon, it ran the risk of infection. Back in Camelot, Merlin could’ve easily made a poultice out of some yarrow-
Or Arrowroot, Merlin thought, eyes zooming in the label of a drawer in a cabinet. Merlin looked around even though she knew there was nobody in the room with her. Then, straining her ears to make sure that Snape wasn’t on his way, she let her magic (none of this wand business) reach out and open the drawer. A small bundle of arrowroot- just enough for her to use- flew out into Merlin’s now outstretched hand. She had just seconds to pack it away inside one of her pockets before the door opened and Snape walked in.
He paused and looked around the room suspiciously and Merlin held her breath. Then, out of nowhere, it seemed, he launched into the lesson, leaving Merlin scrambling. Honestly, if she wasn’t so used to Arthur’s unpredictable moods, Snape would’ve given her whiplash by now
Her lesson ended far more quickly than normal. Merlin suspected that this had to do with the late hour and Merlin’s detention. No matter what anybody said, Snape did have the well-being of all his students at heart. As Merlin gratefully packed up her things and got ready to leave,
Snape called her back.
“Yes, professor?”
“The next time you get caught stealing from me,” Snape warned, “The consequences will be far more severe.”
Merlin caught his delicate phrasing and resolved not to leave the draw open the next time.
The next morning, Merlin found Gwaine sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Arthur oddly absent.
As she took her seat, she asked Gwaine, “Where’s Arthur?”
Her voice was still thick with sleep. When she had finally made it back to her dorm last night, she had prepared an arrowroot poultice as best she could and placed it on her hand, wrapping it tightly in her neckerchief, which, for the time being, had been stowed away at the bottom of her clothes trunk.
Checking her hand when she woke up, she was pleased to see that it had stopped bleeding and that most of the irritation was gone. However, her hand still burned something horrible, a pain that had kept her up almost all night, and it looked as though the marks were going to scar, which Merlin found rather strange. Merlin had caught a good enough glimpse of Harry’s hand to see that it was going to scar, but that was reasonable because he’d had enough detentions. Merlin only had one.
So when Gwaine said, “Arthur’s not feeling too well,” she snorted.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
“Dunno,” Gwaine said, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was rummaging through his bag for something. “Neither of us could sleep last night.
Just felt strange. I headed over to the library, though, to see if I could find something for you. Here!”
He pulled out a large, worn book from his bag, and Merlin’s eyebrows rose up so high she could’ve given Gaius a run for his money. “You broke curfew? To go to the library?”
“I wanted to find out more about those quill things Umbridge’s been using during detention,” Gwaine said. He placed the book on the table and started to flip through the pages, clearly looking for one in particular
“How did you know about the quills?” Merlin accused.
Gwaine looked sharply at her injured hand as he said, “Harry told Arthur and I last night. Now where-?”
He flipped through a few more pages until he landed on one with a triumphant shout. He handed her the book and she looked at the title on the page.
“Blood quills,” she muttered to herself. She skimmed the article. At first, it didn’t tell her anything she didn’t know: it wrote with the user’s blood, carved words into the user’s hand, etc. Then, she noticed something interesting. Aloud, she read, “The Dark magic in the quill has been known to react to the light magic in some wizards. This effect is rare and has been reported only in wizards of significant magical ability.”
“That explains a lot,” Merlin said, more to herself than Gwaine. Then, for his benefit, she added, “My hand still hurts, even though I put a poultice on it, and it explains why none of us have been feeling well.”
“What does your magic have to do with us not feeling well?” Gwaine whispered, making sure nobody would overhear.
Merlin, in a similar volume, said, “Your magic is my magic. When were traveling here, I guess I sort of panicked and tried to use my magic to protect you and it sort of got all tangled up.”
“What got all tangled up?” Merlin almost hurt her neck with the speed with which she turned her neck to see Arthur, who did look very tired, she admitted, approach.
As he sat down next to her, she said, “Oh. My hair. It got all tangled up last night.”
Arthur looked at it critically and said, “Yes, well, your hair always looks like a bird’s nest, so how can you tell the difference?”
“Excuse me!” Merlin protested. “Not all of us spend hours in front of the mirror every morning!”
“I do not!” Arthur snapped.
Merlin said simply, “Yes. You do.”
Arthur hit her hard in the arm, making her squeak in surprise. “Ow! Arthur!”
“Don’t be such a girl’s petticoat,” Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes and piling his plate up with breakfast. Merlin wrinkled her nose.
“Oh, I hate petticoats!” she said, which immediately lead to another argument between Merlin and Arthur
Merlin would grow increasingly grateful for her arguments with Arthur as the weeks progressed. It was one of the few normal things in her life.
Hogwarts, as interesting as it was, was clearly a tense place at the moment.
Slowly but surely, Merlin learned more about Voldemort (or You-Know-Who) and the events between him and Harry this past year. She had already been warned about Sirius’s escape from prison and the Ministry’s vendetta against Harry, but seeing it in action was something else.
Umbridge’s actions eventually got so bad that Harry, Ron, and Hermione formed Dumbledore’s Army, which Merlin had to admit was a great help to her and perfecting her magic.
Despite the secrecy surrounding the DA, Umbridge still managed to find an excuse to ban George and Harry from Quidditch (it was all Draco Malfoy’s fault and honestly, how could he be in the same House as her?).
Umbridge did eventually get a bit of what she deserved with teacher inspections. Watching Snape glare witheringly at Umbridge for over an hour was one of the most marvelous things she had ever seen.
Still, Merlin was looking forward to winter break by the time it rolled around, and she was incredibly excited for it. It did seem, for a moment, as though it wouldn’t be much of a break when Mr. Weasley was attacked, but somehow, he was saved by Harry. Merlin didn’t understand how, but she did see Harry leave Snape’s office a few days before the holidays. He didn’t say anything to her, however. He just hurried past her. Merlin knew better than to ask Snape.
As Merlin sat on the train headed back towards King’s Cross, she couldn’t help but be eager for a nice, long, rest
Unfortunately, she wouldn’t really be getting one.