Chapter Text
When Merlin materialised in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom on Saturday morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione were already waiting for him—and they quickly noticed that there was a sword sheathed at his side, of all things.
“Ooh,” said Myrtle from where she had been sulking in one of the windows. “No one new ever comes in my bathroom.”
“I’m not new,” said Merlin. “We’ve met, remember?”
She frowned. “I’m sure I would remember if you’d come in here before…”
Merlin waved his hand. “Not in the bathroom, in the Great Hall. That Ravenclaw girl was bothering you, remember? What was her name… ?“
“Olive Hornby!” Myrtle answered quickly, floating down to examine him.
“Yeah, that’s right. So I threw a couple of peas at the back of her head.”
Harry glanced incredulously at Ron and Hermione, both of whom just looked resigned at this point.
Myrtle gasped. “Oh, I remember, there was that huge food fight! And then afterwards, I’d forgotten all about the boy who threw something at her—that was you?”
“Yeah, in hindsight, that was a bad plan. I mean, it’s a school, what did I think was going to happen?”
“But… you’re not a ghost.” She circled him as if verifying.
“No,” said Merlin cheerfully, “I’m extremely long-lived. The other ghosts haven’t said anything about me?”
“No,” she sighed. “I don’t go out there much. Peeves is so mean.” She sniffled.
“I’ll have a word with him if you like.”
“Would you?” she squealed, getting even closer to him. “Everyone just tells me to ignore him, but…”
Merlin snorted. “Where did that ever get anyone? He’ll just think you’re a doormat—then he’ll never leave you alone. Next time he pulls something, just tell the Baron. Or my—Merlin’s portrait.”
“What can a portrait do?”
He shook his head. “You’d be surprised.”
Myrtle floated a little closer. “If you ever die,” she said shyly, “you’re welcome to share my toilet.”
Merlin smiled. “That’s nice of you. But unfortunately, I have a previous engagement.”
He beckoned to the trio. “Come on, you lot. Dumbledore and the others will be waiting there by now.”
“You can’t Apparate inside of Hogwarts,” said Myrtle, looking confused.
Merlin just grinned and disappeared in a swirl of wind.
They soon appeared in the Burrow’s crowded kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was at the counter making tea—which was fast becoming her full-time occupation—while Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, and Moody were gathered at the table.
“Good morning,” said Dumbledore serenely.
Mrs. Weasley turned around to see who he was talking to, nearly running straight into Merlin.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, then tutted. “You and your tornadoes! Why you don’t just take the Floo, now that that Umbridge woman’s gone…”
“Can’t be too careful, Mrs. Weasley,” he responded genially, causing Moody to raise his eyebrows meaningfully at the rest of them.
Mrs. Weasley carried on, ignoring him. “…making a mess of leaves, I’m sure. What you must have been like as a child—your poor mother!”
Merlin didn’t seem to take offence. “Oh, I didn’t know how to do that when I lived at home. She did get her faire share of objects flying through the house, though.” He paused thoughtfully. “And occasionally, people.”
Sirius cut in before Mrs. Weasley could start up again.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” he asked, indicating the sheath at Merlin’s side.
Merlin looked blankly at him. “A sword.”
“Can we see it?” Ron asked eagerly.
Merlin shrugged. “Why not? I wouldn’t touch it though, just in case. I’m not even really supposed to be using it.”
Hermione eyed him warily as he pulled out the sword with in one motion that looked practised. He laid it down on the kitchen table, for lack of a better location, and stood there bemusedly as they all stared down at it.
Harry’s first thought was that it looked nothing like the sword of Gryffindor. It was both broader and longer, and looked very heavy. It had no jewels: only golden filigree on the leather-bound hilt, and on the runic inscription carved onto its blade.
“It’s so much bigger than Gryffindor’s sword,” said Ron, evidently thinking the same thing.
“’Course,” said Merlin. “That one’s a ceremonial sword. I doubt Godric ever used it in battle.”
“So you’ve used this one?” Harry asked.
“Yeah. A few times.”
“Oh,” sighed Mrs. Weasley when she saw where he had put it down. “Not on the table… Who knows whose blood could be on there? Not sanitary…”
Merlin shrugged and picked it back up, resting the flat of its blade casually on his shoulder.
Hermione tilted her head to the side. “Take me up…” she read.
Merlin nodded and flipped it over to show her the other side. “Cast me away,” he finished.
Hermione’s eyes grew wide and she stumbled back a few steps, causing a chair to scrape on the floor when she bumped into it.
“That’s—“ she breathed. “That’s Excalibur!”
Merlin frowned. “Yeah, of course. Did you think it was going to be some other random sword? I don’t exactly have them laying around my—oh, actually, I do.”
The others had stood from their chairs to gape at him, coming to the collective realisation that Merlin himself was standing in the kitchen with the legendary Excalibur resting carelessly on his shoulder. The renowned warlock just regarded them in bewilderment.
“It can destroy anything, living or dead,” he explained warily. “I used it against an undead army… and Morgana, who couldn’t be killed by a normal sword.”
“Hold on,” said Ron, snapping out of it. “You killed her with a sword?”
Merlin frowned at him. “Why is everyone surprised by that? I had it on hand.”
“How did you retrieve it from the Lake of Avalon?” asked Dumbledore.
“I asked for it,” he said with a shrug. “I’m the one who put it there in the first place, I didn’t think she’d say no.”
“She?” said Ron, yet more incredulously. “You mean, the Lady of the Lake? You know her?”
“Er, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I sort of… put her there, too.”
“Wait,” said Harry, putting his hands up. “I thought Excalibur was the Sword in the Stone. What’s this about a lake?”
“It was in a stone for centuries, yes,” said Hermione immediately, “but King Arthur pulled it out, and after his death it was returned to the lake.”
Merlin made a sound of hesitation. “Well, I don’t know about centuries…”
Harry raised his eyebrow at him.
“I sort of…” Merlin winced, “made that up. I mean, it was in a stone,” he added quickly, “it’s just, I put it there for safekeeping. And then lied to Arthur about it to convince him he had some sort of legendary right to the throne. He was having an off day,” he finished with a shrug.
“That’s…” Lupin began.
“Disappointing?” Merlin guessed.
“Hilarious,” Sirius corrected him, grinning. “Did he buy it?”
Merlin laughed. “Definitely not at first, but I’m pretty sure I convinced him by the time we got there. After all, there was a sword sticking out of a stone. You don’t exactly see that every day. Come on, then,” he said, beckoning them into the sitting room and leaning the sword against the wall. “Let’s get this over with.”
He gestured to the couch (the one where he had come back to life not long ago, Harry thought), and Harry sat.
“I know it’s a bit crowded in here,” he said in a lower voice, “but we should have backup just in case anything goes wrong, even though I don’t think it will. Do you want anybody to leave before we start?”
Harry looked around at his godfather, his best friends, his favourite teachers, and the woman who had treated him like a son.
“No,” he said, feeling minutely less anxious. “I’m ready.”
“All right. Lie down,” said Merlin, kneeling on the floor beside Harry as he awkwardly complied.
“I’m going to put you into a light sleep,” he explained, “just in case there’s any discomfort. And, listen.” He paused. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought there was any serious risk to you. When you wake up, you should feel better.”
Harry nodded. “I’m ready,” he said again.
A sound.
Harry heard a sound that echoed and surrounded him in the warm blackness—a voice—one more ancient even than the trees he could sense swaying somewhere nearby, in the back of his mind. It was profoundly strange, yet unbearably familiar. The words were muffled as if Harry were underwater, but they brought a vague tingling sensation, as of sunlight warming icy skin.
He’d felt that sunlight somewhere before, but he couldn’t think now. Something was struggling against it down in the deep, thrashing and trying to cry out, but the all-encompassing voice suppressed it with ease.
The coldness in that little corner of Harry’s world gave him no fear. As it shrunk into the darkness, smaller and smaller, he let himself sink deeper into the quiet, and he slept.
When Harry opened his eyes, he didn’t have a headache.
At least, that’s what it felt like, somehow—a non-headache. He shook his head and sat up. Was he still drowsy? He wasn’t making any sense.
He looked around at the room, and everything looked exactly the same; no one had moved, not even the sword resting in the corner. It felt vaguely as if someone had opened a window—it was brighter, maybe, or there was more fresh air…
“Did someone open a window?” he asked.
Hermione and Ron exchanged a concerned look; but Merlin, still sitting on the floor, just laughed.
“No,” he said, “it’s probably just the absence of Riddle’s soul you’re feeling.”
“It’s gone, then?” Harry asked, feeling more cheerful than he had in months. “It worked?”
Merlin nodded, showing Harry the small glass bottle in his hand.
“What’s that?”
“A Horcrux,” he answered with a grin.
“But… it’s an empty bottle.”
“A Horcrux can be anything,” said Merlin, waving his hand vaguely over Harry, probably checking him over. “Voldemort wanted his to be important things, but I see no reason we have to adhere to that.”
Once he was satisfied with Harry’s health, he set the bottle on the low table and retrieved Excalibur.
“Better get rid of this, then,” he said, raising the sword.
“Not on the table!” Mrs. Weasley insisted.
Merlin gave a long-suffering sigh and looked around.
“Watch out,” he said, and walked toward the fireplace. “There might be shards.”
Sirius and Lupin, who had the closest seats, stood up to move further away. And as they watched, Merlin tossed the dirty bottle up into the air, swung the sword with a satisfying whoosh, and hit it in midair like a cricket ball, right into the lit fireplace. It smashed into a thousand tiny pieces that fell into the flames with a few suspicious hisses and sparks. Merlin waved his free hand to gather up any stray shards, and with a glance, turned the fire blue.
“Well,” he said, tucking the hilt under his arm to dust off his hands, “that should take care of it.”
Mrs. Weasley looked slightly scandalised at the antics taking place in the sitting room, but evidently didn’t see any reason to protest.
“All right then, Harry?” Ron asked bracingly.
“Yeah,” he answered with a grin. “I think so.”
“You should still take it slow for a while,” said Merlin. “You never know what—“
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Moody instantly pulled out his wand. “Were you expecting anyone?” he asked Dumbledore.
“Not at all,” he responded.
“It’s probably just Tonks,” said Mrs. Weasley. “She comes by often.”
“Still…” said Moody, wand at the ready as he left the room to check the door.
Constant vigilance, Merlin mouthed with a grin.
“Good day,” said an unfamiliar voice from the door. “Is Merlin here?”
Merlin dropped Excalibur. They all jumped at the clatter, and Harry stared in alarm as Merlin’s face turned almost as white as it was when he died.
“Who are you?” Harry heard Moody ask gruffly.
Without warning, Merlin lurched for the door and hastened around the corner. The rest of them followed hesitantly, drawing their wands. Through the crack in the front door, Harry could see the sliver of a young man, and a suggestion of blond hair. Merlin pressed past Moody and wrenched the door open all the way.
The blond man’s face lit up, but Merlin just stumbled backward, covering his face with his hands. The stranger stepped forward and reached out—Harry noticed vaguely that he wore leather cuffs over a plain red tunic.
“No, Merlin—don’t cry,” the stranger said softly.
“I’m not!” Merlin snarled in a voice that indicated he probably was.
His pressed his palms into his eyes before ripping them away and curling his hands into fists, eyes flashing as something coiled dangerously in the air.
The stranger gave him a baffled look. “Are you… angry?”
“Apparently!” Merlin snapped.
“Look,” the man said, raising his hands. “I’m sorry—“
The door frame cracked beside Harry. The stranger eyed it distrustfully, but he was stopped from saying anything more when Merlin held out his hand, still staring him down; Excalibur zoomed into his outstretched hand from the other room, and he smoothly aimed it at the intruder.
“Are you a Shade?”
Hands still raised, the man spoke quickly. “A wha—No! It’s me. Don’t point that at me!”
The sword didn’t waver. “Tell me something only you would know.”
“Er—You’re a slob!” the stranger blurted suddenly.
Merlin stared blankly at him.
“What?”
“Your room is always an absolute mess,” he said firmly, doubling down. “And you can’t clean to save your life.”
Merlin gaped at him.
“You’re the one who can’t clean his own bloody clothes!” he retorted, waving the sword in his direction.
“I could, but I have you to do that.”
Merlin menaced him with the sword again. “Not if I run you through, you don’t.”
Harry glanced warily at Ron and Hermione.
The man scoffed. “Please. When did you learn to use a sword?”
“Would you like a demonstration?” Merlin replied cheerily.
“Merlin,” he sighed, “just put the sword down.”
“Not until I know who you are.”
“Who else could I be?”
“Prove it.”
No one else dared to move, but the stranger just sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
With great distaste, he said, “What accompanies his majesty on his saddle yet stays at the castle to announce his return?”
Merlin scrunched up his face. “Er… I dunno.”
“Brass.”
Merlin thrust the sword back into its scabbard with ferocity, glaring fixedly.
“YOU,” he said, jabbing a finger at the stranger, ”are the absolute worst. I swear I was this close to forgetting every single one of those stupid bloody jokes, and it’s going to take me another thousand years to forget that one. Thank you so much, you unredeemable arse.”
The man spluttered. “You can’t speak to me like that!”
“Pretty sure I can, actually.”
“And don’t scratch my sword!”
“It’s literally indestructible.”
The blond man stood awkwardly for a moment before saying, “So… how’ve you been?”
Merlin glowered. “I was fine this morning.”
“Do you want me to leave?” the stranger asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Don’t you dare,” Merlin replied, and with a single motion toward the entry, pulled the man the rest of the way inside and shut the door behind him.
“How did you even find—“ Merlin started to say, but the wind was knocked out of him when the blond man barrelled into him with a hug that almost lifted him off the floor.
The warlock looked flabbergasted for a moment before letting out a shaky breath and returning it, hands fisted and face hidden. He mumbled something that was answered with a whispered, “I know you did.”
All at once the man moved, catching Merlin in a headlock and messing up his hair.
“Argh!” he cried inarticulately, shoving at his captor. “Let go! Arthur, get off!”
Harry looked on incredulously, wanting to do something but having no idea what that might be.
“Let go or I’ll turn you into a toad,” Merlin threatened as he struggled.
“You wouldn’t,” the other man retorted with a laugh that turned into a croak. His eyes widened and he quickly let go.
“Ha!” Merlin shouted, then meandered into the kitchen. “Told you I was stronger than you.”
“That doesn’t cou—“ But his protest was cut off by another croak. He glowered.
“Merlin,” he said, following him into the other room. “Fix this.”
All they heard in response was laughter.
In a situation eerily similar to a few weeks ago, the current inhabitants of the Burrow were gathered around the kitchen table, pretending not to stare at a person who was meant to be dead. The only difference was, this time Merlin was staring at him too.
“What?” Arthur Pendragon demanded. “Did you forget what I looked like?”
“Yeah, actually,” said Merlin with a mocking smile. “Fifteen centuries will do that.”
The king looked appropriately chastened.
But then he opened his mouth again. “It wouldn’t have taken so long if you’d just—“
“Oh good, explain how it’s my fault this time.”
Harry became very interested in his tea.
“Well I’m only here because you took up the sword!”
Merlin frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Pendragon sighed and said, “It was foretold that I’d come back when Albion’s need was at its greatest—“
“How do you know about that?”
“Shut up, Merlin. Anyway, apparently the idea is that if you were ever desperate enough to come back for the sword, Albion must be in dire need, so that’s when I’d come back. If Albion faces a threat that can only be repelled by the sword, then you need me to wield it.”
Merlin stared incredulously at him for several long seconds.
“Are you telling me all I had to do to make you come back was… steal your stuff? I guess it explains why you weren’t here for the world wars, though.”
“Eloquent as ever, Merlin,” the king replied haughtily.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “If you really thought I was as much of an idiot as you act like I am, you wouldn’t have made me write all your speeches.”
“That’s beside the point,” he said quickly. “The point is, I go where the sword goes. If you need it—if you need me—I come with you. When you give it back to the lake, I return with it.”
“So…” Merlin glanced at the Order gathered nearby—who were pretending not to listen in—and lowered his voice. “So you’re only here for a little while?”
“You’re not listening, Merlin,” said Arthur, punching him in the arm. “I’ll take the sword back to the lake when you’re done with it, but all you have to do is come get it again, and I’ll come back with you. I’m the Once and Future King, Merlin, not the Once and Twice King.”
Merlin threw up his hands. “Well, how was I supposed to know that? No one ever tells me anything, I swear… And I was explicitly told never to let anyone but you use the sword, anyway!”
“By who?”
“The dragon.”
“The dragon known for giving good advice.”
“Sometimes,” Merlin muttered.
“Like killing Mordred.”
“If I had,” Merlin retorted, “we wouldn’t be in this situation. And how do you know about all that, anyway?”
Pendragon rolled his eyes again. “I’ve been in Avalon with Morgana and Gaius for the last millennium. I’ve heard it all countless times. Besides, we’ve been… keeping an eye on you.”
“Have you been spying on me?” Merlin squawked.
“Well, time’s a little different there, we don’t get to see much—“
Merlin interrupted. “Wait… Morgana—is she—?”
Pendragon waved his hand. “Whatever insanity overtook her passed a long time ago. We’re all on speaking terms again, and she and Gwen are once more inseparable, which is annoying. She was furious at first that you killed her, especially without magic—you should have seen her! But I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s a bit funny now, although she’d never admit it.”
“Are you sure—?”
“Yes, Merlin, I’m sure. That rat’s nest on her head is finally gone, and she’s back to complaining about every woodland creature we accidentally injure, so yes, she’s back to her old, insufferable self.”
“Why are you injuring woodland creatures in—“
“Good god,” Pendragon interrupted, “there is no escaping the sensitive sorcerers, is there?”
Merlin spluttered. “I’m not sensitive!”
“Of course you are, you cry more often than she does.”
“I do not!”
“You did when I died,” he responded smugly. “Yeah, I know about that. And the day before that, when I was mad at you. And when that Dragonlord was killed, even though we only met him the day before.”
Merlin glowered at him. “That was my father, you arse.”
“Ohhh,” was the slow response. “That explains a lot, actually.”
“And I’m supposed to be the idiot.”
“You can’t address me like that. I’m the king.”
“Oh?” Merlin responded, looking around the room. “Of what?”
“Well—of you, for one thing! So will you kindly tell me where I am and who all these people are?”
Merlin glared daggers at him before turning to the group with a cheery grin.
“Guys,” he said, “may I present Arthur… son of Uther… King of Camelot… Knight of the Round Table—“
“Merlin,” Arthur tried to interrupt.
“—slayer of dragons and Questing Beasts—“
“I know that was you.”
“—wielder of Caliburn—“
“Don’t name my swords for me, Merlin.”
“—the Sword in the Stone—“
“That was your doing, wasn’t it? I knew it. Can’t believe I bought that even for a second.”
“—the Once and Future King.”
Arthur glared at Merlin. “Are you done?”
“I suppose,” Merlin beamed. “These are a bunch of sorcerers, who you will not be arresting. That’s Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore—who has taken the opposite approach of mine by using as many names as possible—he is the…” He frowned. “leader, of a… school for sorcery. As well as this organisation, which is a group of sorcerers fighting against a particular evil sorcerer calling himself flight of death. Or theft of death, it’s actually not clear what he meant by that.”
“Er,” was all Arthur managed before Merlin barrelled on.
“Anyway, then there’s Alastor Moody, a… knight. Yes, a magical knight. Don’t be disturbed by his eye, it’s staring at me because I’m the embodiment of magic. I don’t like it any more than you do. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin there are also skilled sorcerers, and are sort of hiding from the magical government because the justice system is in shambles. And finally, those three are students at Professor Dumbledore’s school: Harry Potter is being attacked by that Voldemort chap I mentioned for insane reasons I won’t bother explaining right now, and he’s also an excellent duellist. Beside him are his friends, Ron Weasley—a strategist and a Seer—and Hermione Granger, a scholar and a prodigy.”
Merlin turned genially to his friend and continued, “So there you have it. Satisfied? Or should I make you a list?”
“I’ve got it,” Arthur growled at him. “It’s, er, a pleasure to meet you all, although I admit circumstances could be better.”
There was a general mumble of agreement from the Order.
“Hang on,” said Merlin. “How did you find me, anyway?”
“Ah, thanks for reminding me,” said Arthur cheerfully, and slapped Merlin upside the head.
“OW! What was that for?”
“For running away before I could even make it out of the lake! You’re really supposed to wait longer than a second and a half, Merlin. I had to ask Freya where you disappeared off to. And by the way, what on earth is happening outside? I got to civilisation and suddenly there’s… stuff, everywhere. It’s incredibly loud, and the carriages—at least I think that’s what they are—they’re faster than anything I’ve ever seen, and the buildings are enormous!”
“Er,” said Merlin. “None of that was my doing, if that’s what you’re—“
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Merlin, I know it’s the future, but the least you could do is be there when you summon me so I don’t have to walk across Albion!”
Merlin squinted at him. “There’s no way you got here this quickly just walking.”
“Fine,” he said haughtily. “I may have borrowed a horse.”
“I see,” said Merlin with mock seriousness. “So you stole a horse—“
“Borrowed.”
“—but that still doesn’t explain how you got here so fast.”
Arthur sighed. “All right, I got help from a sorcerer. Managed to find one in the first tavern-like establishment I came across.”
“You asked a sorcerer for help?” said Merlin incredulously.
“I do have the ability to grow, Merlin. Even learn occasionally.”
“Does that mean you don’t hate magic anymore?” Merlin ventured. “Because I find that hard to believe.”
Arthur looked at him with sudden seriousness. “I stopped fearing magic the minute I realised it was part of who you are,” he said. “I thought you knew that.”
Merlin didn’t respond, just looked away.
“I couldn’t hate anything if it meant hating you,” said Arthur simply, as if explaining why two and two always equals four.
Merlin shook his head before speaking. “That’s—“ he said hoarsely, then looked up with a weak grin. “That makes no sense at all. But then, I always knew you were daft.”
Arthur laughed. “You haven’t changed one bit, Merlin.”
He shrugged. “You asked me not to.”
They shared a look that seemed to contain an entire conversation before Arthur finally asked, “So, what did you need the sword for, exactly? To kill this voldything you were talking about?”
“We can defeat Lord Voldything without the sword,” Merlin replied. “But he has a couple household objects keeping him alive, so I needed it to kill those.”
Harry knew that wasn’t quite true, as they had Gryffindor’s sword for that, but he could see why Merlin wouldn’t want to say it was for insurance.
“I see,” said Arthur with remarkable calm. “Well… can I help?”
“Yes!” Merlin practically shouted. “I’m planning to rob a bank run by goblins, and I need your help.”
Arthur looked at him with deep incredulity.