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Chapter Text

Harry had met Martin three times before his world was once again turned on its head.

The first time was on an early summer evening, when the sun was beginning its descent. Harry’s mind swirled like a tumultuous sea, thoughts slipping through his mind like water from cupped hands.

He walked with rhythmic steps down the footpath, avoiding the cracks absentmindedly. He eyed the setting sun through squinted eyes, quietly admiring the shades of orange and red that made the world appear on fire.

It was unfair, how dangerous beautiful things were. The sun brought light and hope to the world in shades of lemon gold, but it would rain hellfire once time had marched on like a merciless soldier. The green lightning of an Avada Kedavra was vibrant and awe-inspiring, both in its beauty and the damage it could wrought.

Beauty was a lie. And Harry hated lies, but lived them every day.

It seemed that everyone was lying to him nowadays, that the universe itself was against him. He almost wanted to give up, because there was seemingly no reason to keep going. His friends were keeping secrets, involved in something that Harry could not be a part of because he was sequestered in Privet Drive for his safety.

He did not feel safe.

In fact, Harry felt trapped, like he was trying to run from something dangerous that was right behind him, but he was held back by the iron chains of expectation. There was nothing he could do to save himself, all he could do was be aware of the danger that lurked around corners and disguised itself as something beautiful.

And so, Harry was alert to the sound of footsteps behind him. His shoulders tensed and he sped up slightly without turning around, hoping that it was just a random person trying to go about their day. Unfortunately, the Potter Luck kicked in, and Harry heard the footsteps speed up also.

Abandoning the pretense of not looking paranoid, Harry’s head whipped around to look at his possible attacker, hand slipping into his pocket to grip at his wand.

It was a man, not much older than 25, beautiful in a different way, with hair as dark as midnight, and eyes as blue as the ocean. His smile was as bright as starlight, and the scarf on his neck green as a forest. Harry could find a million things to compare various parts of the man too, but there was nothing to describe him as a whole. He was special, Harry could feel it, but he didn’t know why, the thought dancing out of his reach.

His hesitation had given the man enough time to catch up to him, and he fell into step with Harry. Harry eyed him out of the corner of his eye warily, he didn’t seem hostile, more thoughtful in a way.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

Harry started slightly as the man spoke.

“What is?” His hand gripped his wand, ready to use it, though he knew the Ministry would be after him if he did.
The man’s blue eyes turned to look into his green ones, and Harry almost gasped. Those eyes were old, far older than they had any right to be. They seemed out of place on his young, almost ethereal looking face, and Harry was entranced by them. The man smiled kindly.

“Feeling burdened by the expectations of many people. When the world hates you for who you are, but feeling obliged to help them anyways. Keeping secrets, and having secrets kept from you.”

Harry turned away from the man’s face, choosing instead to look at the matching white-picket fences of the houses around them, counting the bars in his head.

“How would you know?”

The man chuckled.

“I see it in you, Harry Potter,” Harry straightened, pulling his wand out of his pocket, and raising it to point slightly at the man, who continued, unbothered. This was no Muggle. “The same thing others saw in me many years ago. But I also see the part of myself who wished it wasn’t me who had to bear the loads of others.”

The man glanced at the wand pointing at him, before using one finger to push it down. Harry let him. He didn’t know this man, never met him before, but something told him that he was familiar, that he could be trusted.

“It’s not fair.” Harry whispered, resolutely staring at the floor. “I always try to do the right thing but the world hates me for it. Nobody believes me when I try to tell them the truth, and I’ve been left alone here for weeks now. Even my best friends are keeping secrets.”

The man raised a hand, as if he were going to console him, before hesitating and lowering it, choosing to speak instead. “Destiny is a cruel mistress, Harry. But Destiny is also sometimes kind. What do you continue to fight for?”

Harry raised his eyes, looking at the man questioningly. The man was smiling again, secure in the words he was about to say.
“If the world treats you so, why do you continue to fight? Why not just give up and let Voldemort win?”

“No!” Harry exclaimed involuntarily. “I can’t do that! I have to fight, because if I don’t, he’ll kill my friends. He killed my parents and Cedric already, and so many other people who didn’t deserve what happened to them. If I don’t fight him, more people are going to die!”

The short, impassioned speech left him out of breath for a few seconds, and his shoulders drooped as if weighed down by his emotions.

The man was still smiling, but his eyes were soft with compassion.

“Remember that, Harry. The reason why you continue to fight. Life is never fair, but we must face it head on.”

The man trailed off into thought, or perhaps into a memory, looking off into the distance. He understood too much to not have lived through what Harry was feeling.

“What was your reason?”

Harry’s voice was quiet, and he was surprised he had even asked the question. The man’s smile was tinged with sadness.
“I fought for my friend and the future we would build together. I fought for those I loved. I fought for the innocents. I fought to be free and show the world who I really was.”

The man’s reply raised more questions than it answered, but Harry knew it was not his place to ask. Instead, he changed the subject.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

The man looked at him once again with gold eyes that Harry swore were blue just a few seconds ago.

“My name is Martin Emrys, Harry Potter.”

“Martin Emrys,” Harry repeated, figuring out the feel of the name on his tongue.

Martin suddenly stopped walking, and Harry turned to look at him curiously.

“I think it’s my time to go.” Martin said, blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous light. “I suspect I’ll be seeing you again, Harry Potter.”

Harry blinked in surprise, but before he could say anything, Martin was gone like a whisper in the wind. Harry turned on his heel back in the direction of Number Four, unconcerned but slightly puzzled by the sudden disappearance of the man that he had been talking to for the past ten minutes. In a way the conversation felt almost like a dream, but whether or not it was, Harry had some new things to think about.

Days later, Harry would wonder how a man he had never met before had gotten him to open up and share the things he hadn’t spoken about for speaks. But really, he shouldn’t be too surprised, for despite his large ears and odd clothes, Martin was something beautiful, and beautiful things are dangerous.

The second time Harry saw Martin was a stark contrast to the previous time.

Harry sat on the swings of the park near Privet Drive, lightly going back and forth, not thinking about anything in particular. The grass was long, almost to his knees. The park in general was unkept, which was why not many people visited it and Harry had it all to himself. That is, until he saw movement around the corner of his eye.

Slightly anxious about whether or not it was Dudley and his friends back to harass him again, he relaxed when he saw Martin walking up to him.

It was odd, considering how old his eyes appeared, how youthful Martin looked in appearance. Harry found himself struggling to associate the wise, thoughtful wizard with the one who just cursed after stumbling over thin air. It was bewildering, but Harry felt a smile tug at his lips nonetheless.

Martin pretended nothing happened with all the grace of someone used to tripping over constantly as he came and sat on the swing next to Harry. His hands gripped the chain, and he leaned back so that his body was parallel to the grass below and he was staring at the faded blue colour of the swings.

It was very easy to like Martin, Harry decided. Even though he didn’t know him well at all, the man had managed to endear himself to him.

“Are you following me?” Harry questioned with no real heat to the question.

Martin sighed dramatically.

“I could lie, but what’s the point?”

Harry huffed in amusement.

“Something tells me you’d be a very bad liar.”

For a second, something flickered in Martin’s eyes and his smile became a little more strained, but the change in expression was gone before Harry had the chance to do more than notice it.

Martin pulled himself up into a seated position and began actually swinging. Harry watched him.

“Can you tell me why you’re following me?”

Martin didn’t outwardly react, but Harry could see he was thinking about what to say.

“Let’s just say, something tells me it’s in my best interest to interfere in whatever is going to happen. A gut feeling, if you will. Does it bother you?”

Harry considered it. This man had showed up out of nowhere and gotten Harry to talk about some deep-rooted issues. He clearly had been through something similar himself – maybe he made mistakes and wanted to stop Harry from making them too? Because like it or not, Harry was involved in this war, and it seemed as though Martin wanted to be too.

Harry hadn’t even considered whether the man was a death eater, now that he thought about it.

“Have you got a pretty little mark on your forearm?”

Martin chuckled and slowed down the swing enough to pull up his sleeve. The white line of a large scar was present but no dark mark.

“Have you got a burning desire to attack, maim or kill me?”

Martin’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Not as of yet.”

“Are you planning on doing anything nefarious whatsoever?”

Martin shook his head.

“Nope. Not intentionally at least.”

“Well then you can’t be worse than a lot of the people I’ve had to deal with, so why not?”

Martin sobered up slightly at that, though there was still a gleam in his eye.

“You seem to have some pretty low standards, Harry. Can I call you Harry?”

Harry shrugged.

“Sure.”

And then the conversation fell into silence, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Harry found his mind wandering as he stared at the large oak tree that was the centerpiece of the park.

Harry’s eyes sharpened as he noticed Dudley and his gang walking on the road in the distance. They hadn’t seen him, and Harry didn’t plan on changing that. Martin noticed his unease.

“You don’t like them?”

Harry shook his head, his fringe falling into his eyes. The afternoon sun shone furiously, as if it was trying to blind him.

“The one that looks like a blonde tub of lard is my cousin, and he’s…not the nicest.”

Martin stared at Dudley for a second, before pulling out his wand.

Harry studied the wand. Not because it was particularly extravagant but because it was the exact opposite. There was no handle or carvings, and the light-coloured wood was completely unblemished. Honestly, it looked like a polished stick.

It seemed to work pretty well though, as Martin flicked it and Dudley tripped over a full 15 meters away. His weight didn’t help his balance and his cousin managed to face-plant on the ground, which drew a startled laugh out of Harry. Martin’s eyes twinkled disturbingly like a certain Headmaster’s and he put his wand in his pocket as though nothing had happened.

He then got to his feet and stretched.

“Well, thanks for the company Harry. But I really should be going. I’ll see you again soon, I think.”

And before Harry could so much as turn around, Martin was gone, only the faint imprint in the grass indicating that he had ever been there. Harry blinked.

He really had to figure out how Martin kept doing that.

The third time Harry saw Martin was in a battle for his soul.

It was odd, how every time Harry saw the wizard, he saw a different side to the man. The first time Harry saw him, Martin was reflective and wise beyond his years. The second time Harry saw him he was cheerful and mischievous.

Right now, he was completely terrifying. Beautiful and dangerous.

The man’s usually sky-blue eyes had hardened to chips of ice. His brows were furrowed, and his face was set in a furious scowl. Silver ropes of magic coiled around the man like snakes, and the dementor above Harry screeched as it was struck with one. Harry seized the opportunity to roll away, grab his wand and scramble to his feet.

“Take Harry and go…”

Trying to fight off the negative thoughts that occupied every corner of his mind, Harry raised his wand.

“Expecto-“

Martin’s magic sailed through the air and cut through the dementor like butter. The creature vanished into black mist with a cry of pain that battered Harry’s eardrums.

How…how was that even possible? There was no known way to kill a dementor.

Another thread of magic hit the ground next to the second dementor like a whip, as a warning shot. It clearly didn’t have many plans to stick around after that, or maybe it just didn’t find the prospect of eating Dudley’s soul very appetising. Harry shuddered at the thought.

Martin finally lowered his wand when the chill left the air, and Harry felt like he could relax slightly. His previously intense gaze softened as his eyes met Harry’s.

“Are you alright?”

Harry realised his mouth had opened and he was gaping at the man, unable to properly process anything right now. He managed to nod slightly, and seeing this, Martin’s shoulders became minutely less tense, and he stowed his wand away into a holster on his thigh.

“Good. Your cousin doesn’t look too good though. I probably shouldn’t levitate him through a muggle neighbourhood. Let’s get him up.”

Harry, who was very tired and confused at this point, blindly obeyed, hauling Dudley to his feet, Martin supporting him with one arm while digging around in his pocket with the other. Harry took on half of Dudley’s weight and grunted slightly at the effort it required to keep the blonde standing.

“What…?”

The half question that came from in front of him made Harry’s eyes widen. Looking ahead, he saw Mrs. Figg, his childhood babysitter and resident cat-lady staring at the scene with a mix of anger and confusion. She had evidently been in a rush but had stopped when she caught sight of Martin. Harry tried to use the opportunity to hide his wand away.

“Don’t put it away, idiot boy!” she said in alarm, eyes flickering away from Martin and back to Harry. “What if there are more of them around? Oh, I’m going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!”

“Wha-“ Harry managed to get out, before the woman continued ranting, her feet almost out of her carpet slippers.

“He left!” said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands. “Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I’d flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It’s just lucky I put Mr. Tibbies on the case! But we haven’t got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we’ve got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!”

“You’re – you’re a witch?”

“She’s a squib.” Martin cut in, not stopping searching his various pockets. “Mundungus Fletcher was supposed to be guarding you while you stayed here, but he –“

“He left! Thankfully I’d stationed Mr. Tibbies under a car just in case, and Mr. Tibbies came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you’d gone — and now — oh, what’s Dumbledore going to say?” She noticed they were still not moving, and shrieked. “Come on! I’ll be no help if they come back, I’ve never so much as Transfigured a teabag —”

“Wait,” Harry said, unwilling to let it go. “You know Dumbledore?”

“Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn’t know Dumble-“

“Aha!” Martin interrupted triumphantly, holding out a candy bar. “Finally!”

Somewhat awkwardly, shifting Dudley’s arm to rest on his shoulder, he distributed a piece each to Harry, Mrs. Figg and himself, before giving the rest to Dudley. Harry didn’t know if Dudley would be able to eat it, but somehow he managed to chew and swallow the three squares that Martin had unceremoniously shoved in his mouth. Mrs. Figg was getting visibly much more anxious at the delay but Harry was grateful for it as now Dudley was supporting some of his weight.

Apparently, they were on a short enough schedule to get worried about eating an antidepressant after having close contact with a dementor, but also not question the presence of -to Mrs. Figg’s knowledge- a complete stranger.

Harry and Martin began dragging Dudley down Wisteria walk, as Mrs. Figg hobbled in front of them anxiously, mumbling about the statue of secrecy. She almost looked hysterical when Harry put away his wand to better support Dudley, but relaxed slightly when she noticed Martin had pulled his out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a Squib?” Harry almost demanded of Mrs. Figg, ignoring Dudley groaning slightly as he began to come to. “All those times I came ‘round your house — why didn’t you say anything?”

“Dumbledore’s orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I’m sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they’d thought you enjoyed it. It wasn’t easy, you know… But oh my word,” she said dramatically, “when Dumbledore hears about this — how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight — where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what’s happened, I can’t Apparate —”

“I’ll alert Dumbledore,” Martin said, sending off a Patronus after staring at it intently for a second. Harry couldn’t quite make out the shape of the creature, but it seemed to be a lizard. “Don’t worry about that.”

“The Ministry knows, they’ll bring you up on charges-“

“Charges?” Harry asked sharply.

Mrs Figg wrung her hands.

“Underage magic charges – MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

A short man in a large coat appeared suddenly in front of them with a loud crack, and Harry almost lost his balance as Martin pulled him and Dudley behind him in a reflex action. That helped Harry out of the stupor he was in slightly. The man had wrinkled skin and was clutching an invisibility cloak.

“’S’up, Figgy?” he said, staring from Mrs. Figg to Harry, Martin and Dudley. What ’appened to staying undercover?”

“I’ll give you undercover!” yelled Mrs. Figg. “Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!”

“Dementors?” repeated Mundungus, aghast. “Dementors here?”

“Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!” shrieked Mrs. Figg. “Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!”

“Blimey,” said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry and back again. “Blimey, I…”

“And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn’t I tell you not to go? Didn’t I?”

“I — well, I —” Mundungus looked very uncomfortable. “It…it was a very good business opportunity, see...”

Harry was a little unsure how to deal with everything going on, especially when Mrs Figg began hitting Mundungus with her bag that seemed to be full of cat food, but at least Martin seemed very amused by it all. The yelling continued and Mundungus apparated with the subtlety of an angry Hungarian Horntail, leaving behind a fuming Mrs Figg. Before the woman could speak, or go off on another rant, Martin stopped her.

“I appreciate your help, Madame, but I think I should be fine to take Harry from here.”

Mrs. Figg narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but seeing as Harry made no protest, she gave a nod and tottered off into the night. Harry stared at the blackness that swallowed her up for a few seconds.

Dudley groaned, the boy blinking as he seemed to come out of the traumatised state he was in.

“Wha-“ He managed to rasp out, before he staggered away from the two wizards holding him and vomited all over the sidewalk.

Harry didn’t think he’d look at the colour green the same way ever again.

Martin wrinkled his nose slightly and vanished the mess with a flick of his wand, which only seemed to alarm Dudley.

“What? Where- You did this, freak!”

Dudley Dursley’s rule number one. When in doubt, blame Harry.

Martin’s normally cheerful expression went cold.

“He actually helped save your life, so I wouldn’t go around throwing accusations.”

Dudley stared at him for a moment.

“Who the bloody hell are you?”

Martin’s eyes narrowed.

“The other person who saved your life. Now hurry up, we have to get you home.”

Dudley was confused, but he was probably used to the feeling, Harry thought meanly, so he slowly set off in the direction of Number Four, refusing Martin’s offer for help. Harry trailed along nervously, wondering what would happen when Dudley told Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

He was really hoping Martin would stick around for a few minutes. He didn’t seem like the type of guy who would just let Harry get thrown around by his aunt and uncle.

Far too soon for Harry’s liking, they reached the doorway to Harry’s prison for the last 15 years, and Dudley pounded on the door. Aunt Petunia opened it, a half smile on her face when she saw her son.

“Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite –“

“Mum, the freak did something again!”

It was only then that Aunt Petunia noticed the two figures standing behind her son, and she quickly pulled her son inside the door.

“Vernon! The freak did something to our Diddy!”

Uncle Vernon came out of the living room as fast as he could, which for a man his size, wasn’t very speedy. Harry felt his heart, which had been starting to calm down, speed back up again at the sight of the man. He didn’t realise this until later, but he had taken a step behind Martin, as if to hide from the walrus of a man that had stampeded into the hallway, and Martin’s sharp eyes caught the movement. Uncle Vernon pulled up short at the sight of his son looking green, Harry standing just outside of the house, and Martin, or more likely, Martin’s wand which was loosely gripped in his hand.

“Freaks! I told you lot I won’t have any freaks in my house! What did you do to my son?” Uncle Vernon attempted to reach past
Martin to grab Harry, but was stopped by Martin’s hand gripping his wrist, and pulling it down in a show of surprising strength. Uncle Vernon looked at Martin and flinched at whatever he saw in his eyes.

“Let me get this straight. Your son, who you know is likely not knowledgeable about magic, accuses his cousin after something magical happens to him, and you automatically believe him?” Uncle Vernon opened his mouth to make some sort of remark, but Martin steamrolled over him. “Let me make this clear to you, your son was attacked and your nephew saved his life, risking his own in the process. He had every reason to leave Dudley to die, but he didn’t, and I think that’s worthy of acknowledgement.”
Uncle Vernon blustered something about freaks and liars, but Martin ignored him, ushering Harry inside and closing the door.

“We need to have a conversation. Could you take me to your room?”

Harry nodded, but kept his hand on his wand. Martin could have attacked him earlier, but didn’t. That didn’t mean he was willing
to completely trust the man yet, but he trusted him enough to take him to his room.

“You first.” Harry said, gesturing to the stairs.

Martin seemed to know what Harry was thinking and went up the stairs first without complaint. Harry fidgeted with his wand while he directed the man to his room and shut the door behind him.

Martin’s eyes were piercing and Harry suddenly wished he had cleaned his room. It wasn’t a major concern for the man apparently, as Martin ignored the clutter, and turned to face him.

“First things first, did you use any magic?”

Harry thought about it.

“I used a lumos charm to light up my wand, and was planning on using the Patronus charm when you came out of nowhere and
saved me.”

There was either a question or accusation in that statement, and Martin noticed.

“I guess that gut feeling of mine worked out in your favour then.”

Harry smiled slightly at that, before both of them were interrupted by an owl flying through Harry’s open window. Harry cautiously moved to it and opened the envelope, reading aloud.

“Dear Mr. Potter, we have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle. The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. As you have already received an official warning for a previous offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on August 12th. Hoping you are well, Yours sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk, Improper use of magic office, Ministry of Magic.”

The letter fell out of his shaking hands. He was expelled from Hogwarts for doing magic he didn’t actually do. He was never going back to the place he called home.

He was brought out from the icy shock by a warm hand clasping his shoulder. He turned to look at Martin’s gold eyes, the man was obviously furious, but was clearly restraining himself.

“Listen to me Harry. You are not going to be expelled, alright? I’m going to make sure that you are sitting on that train September 1st with your wand in one piece, I promise you.”

Harry was taken aback by the absolute conviction in Martin’s voice, and so allowed himself to be convinced slowly. Harry didn’t know Martin that well, but maybe he was able to make promises like that.

A second later, another owl, much more ruffled than the first, was flying through the open window. This one had somewhat of a crash landing, and landed in Martin’s arms, the wizard hurriedly backing away from Harry to catch the poor creature.

Martin untied the small roll of parchment that was attached to the owl’s leg and handed it to Harry. After he did so, the owl took a few seconds to get itself in order, and then immediately took off.

Harry read the missive from Mr. Weasley, which basically told Harry not to surrender his wand and that Dumbledore was sorting things out at the Ministry. Harry shook off all the thoughts that came from this new information and turned back to Martin, wanting to hear all of the information before brooding over it.

Martin had obviously come to a conclusion in the time that Harry had decided this, and was waiting for Harry to give him his attention.

“I know this is going to be a lot to take in, but you need to understand this before you go to your trial. Two dementors were sent after you, you didn’t perform any illegal magic, and then you receive a message saying you’re expelled for performing the Patronus charm, the only magic that can ward off a dementor-“ Aside from whatever it was Martin had done. “The only thing that makes sense is that someone from the Ministry sent the dementors after you to provoke you into doing the charm, or… to kill you.”

Harry sat down abruptly on the bed.

“This trial typically should be a small one, but if I had to guess, the Ministry is going to try to make a spectacle of you. The trial is going to be rigged against you, and you are going to need to do your best to keep your temper controlled – I know its unfair, but there’s not much you can do about it.”

“What can I do then?” Harry said weakly.

Martin frowned in thought for a second.

“If there’s one thing Fudge values, it’s his reputation. We have to use his own laws against him, because he can’t refuse to acknowledge them without coming off as a hypocrite. If you let me represent you at your trial, I should be able to do that, though a lot of what I would do depends on what Fudge does first.”

“Could you?” Harry asked curiously, Martin’s calm statements bringing him out of the panicked state he was in.
Martin grinned, which helped put Harry at ease.

“I did study law for several years.”

Harry exhaled, losing some of the tension that he had been carrying since the dementor attack. That is, until the next Ministry owl came through the door. It landed on Martin’s outstretched arm, and with permission from Harry, Martin read the letter aloud.

“Dear Mr. Potter, Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on 12th August, at which time an official decision will be taken. Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further inquiries. With best wishes, blah blah blah.”

“So, everything depends on August 12th?” Harry asked, clenching his hands into fists.

Martin gave him a reassuring smile.

“You can leave the hearing to me, all you need to worry about is keeping your cool.”

And Harry was wondering why he liked Martin.

“Were you a Ravenclaw when you went to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, finding some humor in the situation.

“I didn’t go to Hogwarts actually, but if I did, I think I’d be a hat stall.” Martin said wryly, as if saying a joke only he’d understand.

Harry did get where he was coming from though. Martin was odd in the sense that it was like he had several personalities. Every time Harry saw him, he saw a new side to him. He nearly shuddered as he remembered how Martin looked less than half an hour ago, his magic surrounding him, and that terrifying look on his face.

For the fourth time in the same evening, an owl flew through the window, dropped off the letter and flew back out. Harry read the disappointingly short message from Sirius and felt growing anger at the almost chastising tone of the letter. He hadn’t even done anything, and was being blamed for no reason. He crushed the letter in his fist, taking a few deep breaths to calm down.

The sound of a rising argument came from below, though Harry could vaguely make out that both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were debating tossing him out of the house, the thought of which sent a chill down his back. The shouting reached it’s peak before it was interrupted by what must have been a howler, due to the sheer volume.

“REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA.”

The house was silent, and Harry couldn’t hear any more discussions from the Dursley’s. Martin cocked his head to the side, before shaking it. Whatever the Dursley’s were discussing, they were whispering it now.

“Maybe send a letter to your friends,” Martin suggested after it had been quiet for a while. “See if they have any new information?”
Harry nodded and copied down on three pieces of parchment; “I’ve just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what’s going on and when I’m going to get out of here.” He paced in front of the window, Martin watching him, waiting for Hedwig to come back from hunting.

He could only imagine the state he’d be in if Martin wasn’t here to shed some light on the situation and keep him company. He’d probably be going mad with anger and frustration.

When Hedwig landed on the windowsill, he gave her a little bit of time to eat the dead frog she had clamped in her beak, before sending her off to Ron, Hermione and Sirius, instructing her to not come back without long answers. Hedwig pecked him lightly before taking off into the night.

Harry turned to look at Martin, who had a mischievous smile on his face that made Harry fear what he was thinking.

“I hope you’re ready, Harry, because we’ve got work to do.”

Yeah, beautiful and dangerous was spot on.

Chapter Text

Merlin watched in amusement as Harry’s head fell on the table – a depiction of utter misery.

“It’s been four hours,” the teen groaned. “When will my suffering end?”

Merlin stifled his chuckle, knowing Harry wouldn’t appreciate it.

“To be fair, it was you who asked me to teach you the legal jargon that I was planning on using.”

Harry lifted his head to give him a poisonous glare.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be this detailed. Bloody Ravenclaws.”

“Hey!” Merlin said in fake offense. “I’m not a Ravenclaw.”

That statement wasn’t as effective when it was clear that Harry’s room had been transformed into a mini library. His desk that was normally against the wall had been pulled into the center of the empty space, and Merlin had conjured a second chair. Several small bookshelves littered the surrounding area – Merlin remembered how surprised Harry was when the matchstick-sized boxes in his pockets turned out to be full on bookshelves.

Merlin had conjured up a rug; “for cosiness,” he had said, and though Harry gave him an odd look, he certainly didn’t object. This may have been because he did it right after the Dementor attack and Harry was too tired to object, but Merlin liked the fluffy blue rug. His home near Avalon had several rugs everywhere. Most of them didn’t even match, but Merlin liked them anyways.

Now that it was three days later, and Merlin had come back again for another visit after spending the night in his house (with all his rugs), Harry was mostly recovered. When Merlin had first gotten to Number 4, after scaring the living daylights out of the Dursleys, Harry had been positively gloomy after the events of that night. Thankfully, Merlin’s special talent of annoying someone out of their bad mood had proven effective, and now Harry was simply irritated.

After they had chatted for a little bit, Merlin had been surprised when the teen had asked to learn about Wizarding Law, and had offered to teach it to him. He may have been a bit too overzealous in his explanations though, as Harry looked like he was getting a severe headache.

“I wish there was some way to learn this faster. I mean it’s interesting, but there’s just so much of it!” Harry complained.

Merlin shrugged.

“I mean, Occlumency could help.”

Harry perked up, staring at Merlin intently.

“You haven’t been holding out on me, have you Martin? What’s Occlumency?”

Merlin smiled, and settled into what he called ‘teacher mode.’

“Occlumency is one of the mind arts – the inner mind art if you will. It is about organising and compartmentalising your mind. A practitioner can create a mindscape in whatever form they wish, some choose a library, some choose a park, it depends on the type of person you are. Occlumency allows the practitioner to recall all the information they have ever learnt, if they are good enough at it. It also helps defend the practitioner’s mind – the name of Occlumency itself comes from the word occlude.”

“Defend your mind?” Harry asked. “From what?”

Merlin rested his chin on his hands.

“From Legilimency – the outer mind art. Practitioners of Legilimency, such as I, can send out their mind to gain impressions from the minds of others, usually through eye contact.”

“Like mind reading?” Harry said incredulously. “People can read my mind?”

Merlin frowned, tilting his head to the right.

“Not exactly. Because people don’t necessarily think in sentences. People tend to have general ideas or impressions in their mind that are indicative of their actual thoughts. Sometimes, if a person is thinking intently on something, a practitioner may be able to hear the exact sentence they are thinking of, but mostly it’s impressions. Which is why practitioners look for memories in particular, because they are much more reliable when it comes to getting a read on the person.”

Harry nodded.

“So, if I knew Legilimency and used it on someone to find out if they were a death eater, I’d look for memories of them going on raids or torturing people instead of the exact thought of ‘I’m a death eater,” right?”

Merlin gave an approving smile. Harry was much more intelligent than he gave himself credit for.

“Exactly. And it’s good that you’re thinking of practical applications for it already. That’s something I want to encourage you to do more – if you learn something, think about how it could be used. Every spell has a purpose.”

Harry frowned in thought, chewing his lip.

“But some of the spells we learnt don’t really seem all that useful. Like the spell to turn animals into water goblets that we learnt in second year.”

Merlin sat back in his chair, a breeze from the open window ruffling his hair.

“Vera Verto?”

Harry nodded, green eyes sparking with recognition.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Let me ask you, Harry, do you know the meaning of the Latin behind the spell?”

Harry’s eyes flickered up and he stared at the roof.

“Er, no.”

Merlin conjured a blackboard, and tapped it with his ‘wand.’ Chalk words began appearing on it, though no chalk was in sight. Harry stared enraptured as Merlin noticed he did when magic was performed, enthralled by the little things, something which never failed to make Merlin smile.

“Vera, originating from the Latin word Fera, which means beast. Verto, which means I exchange. Put together, that makes I exchange the beast. Do you get where I’m going with this?”

Harry tilted his head to the side and shook it slightly. A little chalk animation began on the blackboard, where a little wizard who was clearly supposed to be Harry was confronted by what appeared to be a wild bear. Chalk Harry raised his wand, and a little speech bubble appeared above his head with the words ‘Vera Verto’ written in it. Chalk Harry quickly tapped the bear with his wand and the bear was replaced by a soft toy. Merlin gave a little cheer which caused Harry (the real one) to laugh.

“A bear has a very large mass, so casting banishing charms or creating physical barriers is not going to do much to stop the bear from attacking you. Transfiguration -manipulation of an object’s molecular structure- is not something that the bear can physically stop, and in the end, no one ends up harmed. Also,” Merlin paused for a second, “I hope you noticed that the bear wasn’t transfigured into a water goblet, but into a plushie instead. The spell isn’t exclusively for turning animals into water goblets, but for transfiguring animals into something else, which is why learning the Latin can be quite useful.”

“Martin, I don’t know where you find this stuff, but it’s surprisingly interesting.”

Oh, I’ve just had 1500 years to think it all up, thought Merlin whimsically.

“Do you know Latin?” Harry asked curiously.

“Yeah, I do. I speak a few languages actually.”

“Wow. Do you speak more than 200? Mr. Crouch Senior -he’s dead now- spoke loads.”

Both surprised and not at all surprised at the callous way Harry referred to someone’s death, Merlin shook his head.

“No, definitely not that many.” Merlin lied.

Harry shrugged it off, stretching a bit in his chair.

“Learning about spells is pretty wicked, but can you teach me Occlumency? I think it would be mad useful to be able to recall anything – wait, is that how Hermione does it? Huh…”

Merlin chuckled.

“No, I think your friend just has a passion for learning and a good memory,” Merlin said, which caused Harry to smile in agreement. “And I wouldn’t mind teaching you Occlumency, it’s just that doing so would mean I would need to be in your mind, which requires a lot of trust between the student and teacher.”

Harry stopped lounging in his chair and sat up straighter. Merlin could see he was thinking. Merlin didn’t think Harry would let him in his mind – the teen had every reason not to trust him and Merlin wasn’t sure why he did. But to his surprise, Harry gave a firm nod.

“Well, you said it could be done through eye-contact, right? And I’m trusting you not to read my mind now, even as I make eye-contact with you. So, I’m giving you permission to look through my mind.”

It was odd reasoning, but Merlin certainly wasn’t complaining. Occlumency would be a tremendous help to Harry, and Merlin would genuinely love to teach him.

“Alright, if that’s what you want. If you like, we can start now?”

Harry nodded, steeling himself.

“Now, now,” Merlin chastised as he noticed the teen’s tense shoulders. “Relax Harry, close your eyes, and let your mind sink into itself.”

Harry made a conscious effort to relax into his chair, and let out a little sigh. Merlin let his magic flow into the air, as it would massively speed up the process. As soon as the golden tendril touched Harry, the teen sank further into his chair.

“Don’t let your mind drift, keep it where you need it to be. Let it sink deeper and deeper into itself – push through the fog.”

Harry’s jaw loosened as he sank further into subconsciousness. Merlin could tell that the teen was close to being more relaxed than he’d ever been in his life, when all of a sudden Harry’s eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp.

“I saw Hogwarts!” The teen proclaimed, before realising that he no longer could see it anymore. “Oh, sorry Martin. I just found it and then I lost it. Wait, what even was that?”

Merlin grinned, Harry broke through much faster than he thought, even when accounting for his magical aid. The teen obviously had a talent for Occlumency.

“That, Harry, was your mindscape. The thing that separate’s the minds of magicals’ from those without magic. Don’t worry about losing it, once you break through the fog, it’s much easier to access it again.”

Harry looked intrigued.

“My mindscape?”

Merlin nodded.

“What you just did was meditation with a twist. Many non-magicals can meditate, but the fog that you saw in your mind is impossible for them to break through. To do so requires magic-empowered will. From what I’ve seen, you have a very strong willpower.”

Harry blinked at the compliment.

“I can resist the Imperious Curse.” He said, somewhat shyly. “We had it cast on us last year.”

Merlin gave a large grin.

“The fact that you had it cast on you is concerning, but that’s absolutely extraordinary! Most adult wizards can’t resist the Imperious – to do so shows great strength of character and resolve.”

Harry blushed and looked down at the floor, clearly unused to compliments. Merlin planned to break him of that habit soon enough (and maybe break the people who made him this way).

“Coming back to the task at hand,” Merlin said, sparing Harry any further embarrassment. “What I’d like to do now is to use Legilimency on you, so I can visit your mindscape with you. This will allow me to help you organise your mind, and create your defences, and we should have a good basis to work off of within a month.”

Harry’s mouth parted slightly in shock.

“If it’s that easy, then why doesn’t everyone do it?”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to blush, and he mumbled something under his breath. Harry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What aren’t you telling me, Martin?”

Merlin sighed.

“Most practitioners of Legilimency aren’t capable of interfering with a foreign mindscape beyond searching it. Normally, the student would have to do it on their own, which may take up to a year. But… I happen to know enough to help you do it.”

Harry was gaping.

“A year? You’re cutting it down to a twelfth of the time?” Harry paused and chuckled slightly. “You really are something else,” he added, staring at Merlin intently.

Merlin cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, anyways. Shall we?”

Harry stared at him for a moment longer, before conceding.

“So, what exactly do I need to do? Do I just-“

His question was cut off as Merlin delved into his mind, dragging Harry along with him. The fog was no longer there, and Merlin arrived with Harry in front of the Hogwarts gates. The image of the castle was a bit blurry, but it looked extraordinarily like Hogwarts. Merlin knew it said a lot about the Dursley’s when Harry found a castle where his life was regularly put at risk much safer than their home.

Harry finally had the chance to get a proper look at the castle without snapping back into reality, which seemed fairly normal on the outside. However, as soon as they stepped inside the Entrance Hall, it was clear that it was almost in ruins.

Rubble lay everywhere, and bits of the walls and ceiling were being torn off by dark silver wisps. Merlin noted that the wisps were still destroying things, rather than lurking amongst old destruction.

“What are those?” Harry asked, horrified.

“Volatile, negative memories.” Merlin said grimly. “They are having a massive impact on your psyche and will continue to do so until you deal with them.”

“How do I deal with them?” Harry asked, a determined look crossing his face.

Merlin sighed.

“There’s no easy way. The only way to stop the memories from being aggressive is to view them and come to terms with them. Until you do, they will have an effect on your mind.”

Harry gulped. Merlin reached out until one of the memories danced around his hand and wrist, almost touching but not quite. Merlin offered his hand out to Harry, who hesitantly reached out and touched the grey strand.

Immediately, the two of them were sucked into the memory into the hallway of Number 4 Privet Drive. A young Dudley Dursley was standing next to his mother, the front door ajar with Harry peeking out from behind the stairs. Merlin watched as a young Harry, who couldn’t have been much older than four, watch Dudley get a hug before the blonde went out to play. Harry hesitatingly approached his Aunt and asked for a hug, and the bitter woman slapped him around the back of his head. She screeched about the audacity of the ‘freak’ and that he didn’t deserve hugs. Harry desolately scampered back into his cupboard, the child biting his lip as tears streamed down his face.

Merlin turned to look at the real Harry, whose expression was closed off. However, Merlin could see the hints of sadness and shame in the teen’s eyes, who was biting his lip just like his child counterpart.

Before Merlin was even aware he was doing it, he had wrapped his arms around Harry in a hug, loose enough that Harry could escape if he wished, but tight enough to hopefully make him feel secure. The teen stiffened, and just when Merlin was about to let go, his hands came up to grasp Merlin’s back and his head rested on Merlin’s shoulder. Harry let out a shuddering sigh, and they simply stood there for a few minutes, until Harry finally stepped back.

Merlin studied Harry’s expression, making sure his own showed nothing but concern and acceptance, even as fury clawed inside him like a hungry beast. Harry didn’t need to see his anger, he just needed support.

“Never think that you aren’t worth affection.” Merlin said, voice level. “You are worth much more than they are – their opinion of you does not define you. Anytime you need a hug, you can come to me, and I’m fairly certain any one of your friends won’t mind.”

Harry swallowed, but he seemed to genuinely trust in the truth of Martin’s words.

“Thanks Martin.”

And quickly, the memory began to fade, and they were standing back in Hogwarts. The once-grey memory strand had turned a light silver, and Harry released it from his grasp. The memory flew off and Merlin noticed several of the other previously grey memories were now silver as well, and he gave a little smile.

Harry glanced around slightly less apprehensively at the remaining grey memories.

“Call one to you, reach out to it and will it to your hand,” Merlin instructed gently. “Unless you need a break – and we can take as many of those that you need.”

Harry shook his head silently, and stretched out his hand. One of the grey memories began slowly floating to it, and coiled around Harry’s palm. Harry took a deep breath before grasping the memory.

Instead of being wrenched into this memory like the previous one, the memory simply faded in, and Merlin’s jaw clenched as he realised they were back at the Dursley’s.

Harry was a little older now, maybe around seven or eight, and he was proudly showing his report card to Memory Vernon. Merlin could faintly see the scores – Harry was quite intelligent as his yearly average was 89%. Merlin felt his hand reflexively go to Harry’s shoulder, as if to reassure himself the teen was still there and okay, when Memory Vernon backhanded the small child across the face, sending him crashing to the floor. Memory Vernon yelled something about “cheating with your freakishness,” and “not as smart as Dudley,” before grabbing the child by the back of his oversized clothes and throwing him into the cupboard under the stairs.

Inexplicably, the older Harry and Merlin found themselves in the cupboard with younger Harry, somehow managing to fit inside. Merlin let out a choked sound when he noticed the inscription of “Harry’s room” written on the walls of the tiny cupboard.

“I’ll never learn anything again,” Young Harry whispered furiously, wiping his eyes before curling up in his thin blanket.

Merlin growled low in his throat, which caused the Older Harry to look at him apprehensively.

“Let me guess, you never tried as hard as you could have in school, even after you left the Dursleys.”

Harry nodded, looking more and more alarmed by the rage Merlin was unable to hide from his expression.

“Yeah, I gue-“

“And why are you in a cupboard?” Merlin asked furiously.

Harry’s expression became guarded, which made Merlin force himself to calm down. He needed to be in control of his emotions, no matter how disgusting the scene in front of him was.

“I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter.” Harry stated as if he was discussing the weather. “They only moved me into a different room because they thought that people were watching them.”

Merlin inhaled for the count of four, held his breath for the count of four, and exhaled for the count of five. It was a breathing technique he had learned many years ago that worked incredibly well to calm him down whenever he was feeling any strong emotion. It was needed when he learnt it, as back then, whenever he felt any strong emotions he was hard pressed to control his magic. Thankfully, he finally managed to learn to control that aspect of his magic and now things were no longer randomly blowing up.

“The Dursleys can only hold power over you if you let them.” Harry lost the guarded expression and his eyes narrowed. “Yes, I know what you are about to say; ‘they don’t hold any power over me,’ but the thing is, you are actually letting them have power over you. Forgetting the cupboard issue for a moment, though I should say that you did not deserve that treatment, from the stories you have told me, I can gauge that you are still holding yourself back in school. Why?”

Instead of getting angry and denying it, Harry genuinely thought about it, something Merlin was extremely pleased with.

“You’re right,” the teen murmured faintly. “I do hold myself back. I guess it’s because, yeah, I did get punished every time I did better than Dudley, and I think I carried that over into Hogwarts as well. With Hermione, she’s so used to being the best that I’m worried about what’ll happen to our friendship if I start getting better grades than her. Ron, well, he’s always been the jealous type – he turned his back on me with the whole Triwizard Tournament thing, and he’s always been jealous of my money and my fame. He doesn’t realise that I’d give it all up in a heartbeat if I could have my parents back.” Harry said bitterly.

Merlin took in the influx of information for a second.

“One thing you absolutely cannot do is continue to hold yourself back.” Merlin said firmly. “Real friends will be proud of your achievements, and will cheer you on. From what you’ve told me about Ron and Hermione, yes they’ve made some mistakes but they’re only human, and ultimately, they’re real friends.”

Harry blinked.

“I feel a little bad for doubting them,” he confessed. “I mean, Hermione’s always been there for me, and Ron had opened up his home to me so easily-“

“And I’m sure you’ve been just as wonderful to them.” Merlin smiled. “Now, how are you going to approach this new year?”

“I’m going to study hard,” Harry said, a determined expression on his face. “Give my all to my subjects, and not just do the bare minimum.”

“Good,” Merlin said approvingly, even as the scene around them faded and the silver memory flew off into the Hogwarts corridors. “Ready for the next one?”

And so, it continued. Harry tackled memory after memory, and Merlin wondered how the teen was still alive. Sure, he had been on some crazy adventures of his own, but at least most of them were when he was of age! The courage (and maybe a little bit of recklessness) it took to go through several dangerous traps, go after an actually innocent mass murderer and face a basilisk was unreal. Merlin felt quite proud of the young man standing before him.

Eventually, there was only one memory left, and from the grim expression on Harry’s face, this one was worse than the others.

“Last one,” Merlin said quietly. “Are you ready?”

Harry paused, and then shook his head.

“Martin, I can’t. I know what’s in there, and I don’t want to see it again.” The teen whispered, looking vulnerable.

Merlin reached out his arms in an invitation. He knew Harry needed time and support, and no words were needed to give that to him. Hesitantly, Harry approached and gingerly gave Merlin a hug. One of Merlin’s hands rested on the teen’s shoulders, and the other came to gently grasp the back of his head, trying to make Harry feel as secure as possible.

The teen didn’t cry, but Merlin could tell he was feeling quite emotionally exhausted. Nevertheless, the teen slowly pulled away and rapidly summoned the grey memory to his hand, as if trying to remove the possibility of changing his mind.

Merlin and Harry then bore witness to the horrible events that occurred just recently – the first time Merlin could get an accurate representation of what happened. Harry and a blonde boy who Merlin knew to be Cedric Diggory grasping a cup, both of them being taken to a graveyard, a flash of green light, Voldemort rising from the cauldron, Harry being forced to duel for his life, the apparitions of his parents appearing, Harry grabbing the cup and whisking himself and Cedric’s body to safety.

By the end of the memory, when the two were watching Memory Harry sobbing over Cedric’s body, Merlin had to guide Harry to the floor as the teen’s knees had given out. Harry was crying along with his memory counterpart, mumbling; “It’s all my fault, if I hadn’t told him to grab the cup, it’s all my fault.”

“Harry!” Merlin’s voice was sharp and it served to bring the teen back from the incoherent state he was getting into. “I need you to listen to what I say, and think about it properly, okay?”

Harry gave a weak nod, tear tracks running down his face.

“When you offered to give Cedric the cup, did you think that it was the right thing to do?”

Harry vehemently shook his head.

“No, because he died-“

“In the moment when you offered him the chance of a shared victory, did you think it was the right thing to do?”

A slow, hesitant nod.

“Did you know the cup was a Portkey?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Could you have possibly known that a man who had the hatred in his heart to perform a killing curse was waiting on the other side?”

“No…” The teen said mulishly.

“Then how is this in any way your fault?” Merlin asked rhetorically.

“I should have done something!” Harry spat. “I just let him die!”

“You did not! You gave Cedric his wish of winning the tournament, and you fulfilled his dying request at risk of your own life. There was no way you could have known, and you didn’t kill him yourself, so do not torture yourself with the what ifs. What you are experiencing is survivor’s guilt – guilt for surviving a situation that others did not. But what do you have to be guilty for?”

Merlin sighed.

“Look, I know some feelings aren’t always rational and it’s going to take some time for you to process this experience. But until you do, do not torture yourself with the guilt. Look at me.”

Harry met his gaze, and Merlin gave him a smile.

“You are a wonderful person, Harry, who has had to endure so much. And while you may need to process the difficult emotions that come with them, do not let these experiences dictate the way you live the rest of your life.”

Harry closed his eyes, and exhaled a long breath. As he did so, the memory faded, and the now silver strand escaped from Harry’s hold. Merlin grasped Harry’s shoulders lightly.

“I am so proud of you. This entire experience must have been very difficult, but you pulled through. Open your eyes, look at how much your mind has improved.”

Harry opened his eyes and looked around in wonder. No longer were the memory strands attacking his mindscape, they simply lay docile. They were quite beautiful when they were like this.

“Thank you, Martin.” Harry said quietly. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Merlin gave him his signature grin.

“No, you probably couldn’t have.”

“Hey!” Harry said indignantly, playfully slapping Merlin’s arm. “We were having a moment!”

Merlin laughed loudly, and Harry joined him. If his laugh edged on hysterical, Merlin didn’t say anything.

“Alright,” Merlin finally said after their stomachs were aching and the tears on Harry’s face could be mistaken for those of laughter, I think it’s about time we get out of here, but I’m going to let you do it this time.”

Harry sobered up slightly, and nodded.

“Okay, how do I get us out?”

“I want you to concentrate on the feel of your body, reach outwards beyond your mind, and-“

This time it was Merlin who was cut off as the pair was whooshed out of Harry’s mind. Merlin groaned slightly as he came to, his body stiff from sitting in the same position for what must have been hours, though time did seem to pass differently when in a mindscape.

The sky had darkened, and seeing as Harry had only had a small lunch that Petunia had begrudged him, the teen’s stomach growled. Merlin chuckled even as Harry flushed.

“Come on, let’s get some food. I know a great fish and chip shop.”

Merlin held out his arm, and Harry, looking puzzled, hesitantly grabbed it. Without giving the teen any warning (as usually the nervous anticipation made it worse), Merlin apparated them to a nearby alley. Harry staggered and gripped onto Merlin’s arm tightly.

“Martin, what the bloody hell was that? If I had eaten food, you might have been seeing it on the pavement!”

Merlin sniggered at Harry’s predicament, which caused the teen to give him a baleful look.

“That, Harry, was Apparition. Side-along-apparition is worse than regular apparition. I remember the first time I tried it, it felt like I was being squeezed through a tight tube.”

Harry slowly rose from his slightly hunched over position as Merlin dragged them both into the fish and chips shop.

The shop wasn’t incredibly popular as it wasn’t very well known, but Merlin knew and trusted their food. He dragged Harry over to one of the plastic tables in the corner, and deposited him there, while he quickly ordered and paid for their table.

Taking the little number card, he slotted it into its holder. Harry pulled it towards him and began to fiddle with it.

“So, Martin,” Harry started, looking a little unsure. “You know a surprising amount about me, but I know next to nothing about you.”

Merlin rested his elbows on the table.

“There’s not much to tell,” he said, using an advanced technique called ‘lying.’ “Just a regular wizard who has good intuition and a habit of being where he doesn’t belong.”

Harry snorted in disbelief.

“Oh yeah, and that’s why you know magic that can destroy dementors.”

Merlin’s face softened.

“Yes, I don’t really know what happened. I was just so angry. I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“No, not at all,” Harry said, looking away from Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin sighed.

“I’m sorry, but I’m glad you’re okay.”

Harry gave a stiff nod, though he made room as their order arrived and was placed on the table. Merlin casted a privacy charm.

“Stop changing the subject. Tell me about yourself – why didn’t you go to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, trying the fish.

Merlin already had a story in mind, so the question didn’t catch him off guard. He took a bite before responding though.

“I was home-schooled by my great-uncle – he was an academic who specialised in several fields of study. I did eventually get my OWLs and NEWTs, but I didn’t need to go to Hogwarts to sit the tests.”

“Do you still live with your great-uncle?” Harry asked curiously.

Merlin gave a small, sad smile. He had years to get over Gaius’s death but he still felt a pang in his chest whenever he thought of his mentor. At least the man had passed peacefully surrounded by those he loved after a long and fulfilling life. Arthur’s death, on the other hand…

“No. He passed on the day before I met you. That was why I was wandering around.”

“Oh.” Harry said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“It’s okay,” Merlin said calmly, feeling a little bad for manipulating the teen. “I expected it to happen – he was quite old at that point, but stubborn as a mule still. He died happy.”

Harry gave an unsure smile in response to that, and Merlin cleared his throat.

“Moving on to happier topics, is there anything else you’d like to know?”

Harry nibbled on the end of a chip before asking.

“How did you practice magic without the Ministry snapping your wand?”

“Oh,” Merlin shrugged. “You can practice magic in any magical household, the Ministry will just assume that it was an adult wizard who did it.”

Technically, Merlin’s magic wasn’t detectable by the Ministry’s system anyways, but that didn’t stop Harry from being outraged.

“What? But that’s not fa-!”

Merlin shoved a chip in Harry’s mouth to shut him up, grinning widely at the teen’s indignant expression.

“No, it’s not, but until I fulfil my oh-so-evil plans of world domination and change it, that’s the way it’ll be.”

Of course, there were always ways to circumvent these rules, but Merlin planned on letting Harry figure those out for himself.

Harry chewed and swallowed, the forceful silencing giving him time to calm down.

“So…you have a weird wand.”

Merlin gave a grin that was much too wide.

“Not like that!” Harry hurriedly added. “It’s just that there are no markings or handle on it.”

Merlin pulled out his wand and placed it on the table.

“It may not be the prettiest, but it’s served me well.” Merlin said fondly, looking down at the stick he had found on the side of a road.

“What kind of wand is it?” Harry asked, intrigued.

“Holly and phoenix feather,” Merlin stated casually, tilting his head to the side as Harry’s eyes widened.

“Really? My wand’s the same!”

Merlin smiled. He had chosen those wand attributes because they closely reflected him as a person. It seemed in many ways, him and Harry were quite similar.

“That’s definitely interesting.” Noticing that both of them had finished their meal, Merlin rose to his feet, Harry following suite.

They walked out of the shop in silence towards the same alleyway. Merlin held out his arm, and Harry groaned.

“It’s always easier the second time,” Merlin coaxed, and Harry eventually grabbed his arm so Merlin could apparate them.

When they arrived outside Number 4, all the lights were off, indicating the Dursleys had left the house. Merlin tensed as he felt several magical presences inside the house.

“Someone’s here,” he whispered. Harry looked alarmed.

Merlin walked quickly to the door, disabling three alarm wards. Harry followed close behind him and drew his wand. Merlin snuck inside the front door, recognising the voices to be coming from the kitchen. He could sense no ill intent though, and even if they had any ill intent the wards wouldn’t have let them through, so Merlin relaxed slightly.

Well, more than slightly.

“Well, hello there!” Merlin said brightly and unconcernedly to nine wand-points.

A distinct thwack echoed through the hallway as Harry’s palm met his forehead.

Chapter Text

Harry watched Martin bring out his wand in a flash to block a curse that was sent by someone who looked like Mad-Eye Moody. The man cheerfully kept up a shield as curses were flung his way by the paranoid Auror, as the other eight were much too bemused to do much other than hold their wands in a raised position, their faces shadowed in the dimly lit kitchen.

“I’m afraid if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to incapacitate you,” Martin said in an eerily bright voice, the smile never leaving his face. “I don’t really appreciate having curses flung at me.”

“Are you mad?” Moody snarled, sending a curse that caused Martin’s shield to vibrate. “We’ve got no clue who you are, you could both be death eaters for all we know.”

Martin sighed, and then raising his other hand up to level with his wand, he flicked both. The golden shield that had been protecting both Martin and Harry was sent at a rapid pace to Moody, and when it hit him, it transformed into golden rope that wrapped itself around the paranoid man and held him there. Moody had an oddly constipated look on his face.

“Sorry about that,” Martin said unapologetically. “I’m Martin Emrys, you should actually be expecting me. I sent a Patronus to Dumbledore a few nights ago and he did respond asking me to join your Order.” He chuckled. “He needs me for a certain…treasure hunt.”

Putting the ‘Order’ aside for now, Harry cut in coolly.

“Besides, you are the ones who are breaking and entering. None of you sent a letter of warning, so it’s much more likely that you are the Polyjuiced Death Eaters.”

Harry had of course noticed the presence of Lupin who was looking much more worn than the last time Harry saw him, and he didn’t really think they were imposters. But he was feeling quite irritated by their hostile response to Martin.

“It’s alright Harry.” Lupin said, a smile on his face hiding the slight expression of guilt that Harry’s words brought. “We’ve come to take you away.” Seeing Harry was still not convinced, he added; “My Marauder name is Moony.”

“And Pettigrew’s is Wormtail,” Harry said, more sharply than he intended to.

Martin’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Harry absently noted the way that Lupin’s eyes flickered between Martin’s hand and Harry’s face in apparent confusion, though he did still speak, apparently accepting the closeness between the two.

“I taught you your Patronus, and it takes the form of a stag.”

Harry nodded, accepting the answer.

“He looks just like I thought he would,” a witch with violet hair said. “Wotcher, Harry!”

“I see what you mean Remus,” a man standing in the back said, with a low, calm voice and a golden hoop in his left ear. “He looks exactly like James.”

“Except the eyes,” a grey haired wizard stated. “Lily’s eyes.”

“Right, now that you’re done gawking,” Moody said harshly, still attempting to find a way out of the ropes binding him to no avail. “Can someone untie me and make sure we’re absolutely certain this is Potter.”

“What was in the tank when you came to visit me in my office?” Lupin asked, as he went over to Moody, and began waving his wand.

“A grindeylow,” Harry responded, watching in amusement as Lupin failed to get the ropes off.

“I’ll take those off,” Martin offered, stepping forwards. “As long as I’m not going to get cursed.”

“We can be civil, can’t we Mad-Eye?” The wizard with the gold hoop asked, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, he seemed to find the situation quite humorous.

“Fine!” Moody growled. “Just know I don’t trust you, boy!” He said, glaring at Martin with both eyes.

“That’s fine,” Martin said as he removed the spell, still wary. “Just as long as your ego recovers.”

Harry hid his smile behind his hand, and many members of the ragtag group let out a startled laugh.

“Though it was an impressive bit of magic, we must move on. Harry, how are you?” Lupin, ever the peace-keeper asked, cutting off Moody’s response.

“Fine,” Harry said cautiously. “Did you do something to make the Dursley’s leave?” He asked. Lupin looked pleased at his observation.

“It was me that lured them out of the way.” The violet-haired woman said proudly. “Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they’d been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They’re heading off to the prize-giving right now… Or they think they are.”

Martin sniggered, which made the violet-haired witch beam.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, after elbowing Martin in the ribs. “The Burrow?”

“Not the Burrow, no.” Lupin said, shaking his head. “Too risky. We’ve set up headquarters somewhere undetectable. It’s taken a while.”

Moody sat himself down at the kitchen table, taking a deep drink from his hip flask.

“For both of your benefits,” Lupin began, looking between Harry and Martin. “This is Alastor Moody. This,” he said, pointing at the violet haired witch, “is Nymphadora-“

“Don’t call me Nymphadora, Remus.” The witch shuddered. “It’s Tonks.”

“-Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only,” finished Lupin with a wan smile.

“So would you if your fool of a mother had called you Nymphadora,” Tonks said under her breath.

And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt” - Lupin indicated the tall black wizard with the gold hoop, who bowed - “Elphias Doge” - the silver-haired wizard nodded — “Dedalus Diggle-“

“We’ve met before!” Diggle said brightly, dropping his top hat in excitement.

“-Emmeline Vance” – a stern-looking witch in a green shawl nodded – “Sturgis Podmore” – a man with blonde hair winked at Harry – “and Hestia Jones” – a dark-haired witch waved from next to the toaster.

Harry gave them all a stiff nod, wondering why so many were here.

“A surprising number of people volunteered to come get you,” Lupin offered, smiling slightly. Harry broke eye contact, wondering if the man had read his mind.

“The more the better,” Moody said darkly. His magical eye had not moved from Martin, who seemed wholly unconcerned with the attention. “We’re your guard, Potter.”

“We’re just waiting for the signal to tell us it’s safe to set off,” said Lupin, glancing out of the kitchen window. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes.”

“Very clean, aren’t they, these Muggles?” said the witch called Tonks, who was looking around the kitchen with great interest. “My dad’s Muggle-born and he’s a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?”

“Er — yeah,” said Harry, awkwardly. “Look” — he turned back to Lupin — “what’s going on, I haven’t heard anything from anyone-“

“I’m sure we’ll be told everything they know once we’re in a much safer place,” Martin said calmly, his hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder before removing it.

“Damn right. We’re not discussing anything here, it’s too risky,” said Moody, not seeming to realise who he had agreed with, turning his normal eye on Harry though his magical eye remained pointing up at the ceiling. “Damn it,” he added angrily, putting a hand up to the magical eye, “it keeps sticking — ever since that scum wore it —” And with a squelch, he pulled out the eye.

“Mad-Eye, you do know that’s disgusting, don’t you?” said Tonks with forced casualness.

“Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry?” asked Moody.

Harry crossed over to the dishwasher and handed Moody a clean glass that he filled with water, aware of the many pair of eyes boring into his back.

“Cheers,” said Moody, when Harry handed him the glass, seeming recovered from his temporary imprisonment. He dropped the magical eyeball into the water and began plunging it into the water even as it whizzed around. “I want three-hundred-and-sixty degrees visibility on the return journey.”

“How’re we getting — wherever we’re going?” Harry asked. “Brooms,” said Lupin. “Only way. You’re too young to Apparate, they’ll be watching the Floo Network, and it’s more than our life’s worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey.”

“That’s fine,” Martin shrugged. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind getting in trouble – that is, if they catch me. I’m assuming it’s under a Fidelius charm?”

“Who told you that?” Moody growled.

“I guessed.” Martin said, rolling his eyes slightly. He waved his wand. “Privacy charm. Care to share the secret?”

“Dumbledore says to trust him,” Lupin said, looking at Moody, who sighed and thrusted a piece of paper at Harry and Martin.”

“Read it, and memorise it,” he said grudgingly.

Harry read the vaguely familiar handwriting; The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

“What exactly-“

“Not here, boy!” Moody cut Harry off. “Well, Emrys, make your Portkey.”

Martin gave Moody a deadpan stare before shrugging off his jacket and tapping it with his wand, muttering under his breath.

The jacket glowed silver slightly.

“15 minutes,” Martin said, looking at Harry. “You better go pack.”

“I’ll come help you.” Tonks said cheerfully.

After an enlightening conversation about Metamorphmagus’s and hurried packing, Harry and Tonks headed back downstairs. They came face to face with Moody and his rapidly spinning eye, several Order members examining various household appliances, and Martin and Lupin bickering over what to put in a letter addressed to the Dursleys.

“I’m telling you, don’t waste politeness on these people,” Martin said gleefully. “At least let me keep the insults in!”

“What even is a dollophead?” Lupin asked in exasperation.

“Oh!” Martin said, in false shock. “Would you look at that, we’ve only got a minute till the Portkey leaves! Guess we have to leave it as it is!” And with that, he sealed the letter and left it on the kitchen table. Lupin rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem all that disappointed. The corner of Harry’s lip twitched.

“Alright!” Moody barked. “Dillusionments on everyone!”

“Here Harry,” Martin offered, walking briskly over to where Harry was. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Do what?” Harry asked curiously.

Martin raised his wand and tapped him on the head before tapping himself and Harry’s trunk. Harry felt an odd sensation of an egg being cracked on his head, before he realised Martin was no longer there. Raising his arms, he realised he could no longer see them.

“Dillusionment charms. As I’m sure you guessed, it can make you invisible, which is good in case we see any non-magicals.” Martin’s bodiless voice sounded out.

Harry felt Martin’s hand on his shoulder in a steady grip and he was led over to Martin’s jacket-turned-Portkey, and he placed his index finger on it. Somehow, they managed not to bump into anyone else, though the other witches and wizards weren’t quite so lucky, as exclamations and curses sounded through the room after a few aggressive collisions.

“I know you’ve taken a Portkey before, but just remember to walk while you’re being whisked away, so you can land on your feet, alright?” Martin said quietly.

Harry nodded at the new information, before realising that Martin couldn’t see him, and was about to verbally answer before the man cut him off.

“Great, is everyone ready, we’ve got twenty seconds?”

Harry was confused about the fact that Martin could apparently see his nodding, but put it out of his mind. Maybe the caster of the invisibility charm could see the people they put it on?

Various murmurs of assent filled the room in response to Martin’s question, and Martin’s grip on Harry’s shoulder tightened.

“Alright, five, four, three, two, one!”

Harry felt a jerk behind his naval, and soon he was being whisked away. Remembering Martin’s advice, he tried walking in the air, and when he landed in a small square in the center of unkempt houses, at least he was on his feet.

Harry could hear faint muttering and a slight click, and then all the streetlights went out. He was suddenly glad for Martin’s reassuring grip on his shoulder. He kept quiet, knowing stealth was important.

Martin seemed to know where he was going, as Harry was gently led to a certain area of houses. He only knew they were going the right way because he could hear the footsteps of the mostly silent group in front of them.

“Think about the piece of paper you memorised earlier,” Martin said quietly.

Harry focused on the sentence on the piece of paper, and before his eyes, in between houses 11 and 13, dirty doors, windows and walls began to appear as a house made room for itself. A stereo from Number 11 kept playing, indicating the muggles inside hadn’t even noticed.

The Order members seemed to trust Martin to get Harry inside, as Harry could already hear them clamouring inside the house, some of them dispelling their invisibility charms. Harry walked up the worn steps, cautious of any lingering invisible people, before he realised he could see his legs again. Half a second later, Martin and his trunk popped into view, and the man gave him his signature bright smile.

Harry warily stepped over the threshold – the building had a distinct feel of neglect and grime, and Harry thought he might be able to smell something rotten. He started as the streetlamps regained their light, but Martin didn’t seem to care as he shut the front door behind him.

This time, Harry did jump when Moody popped into visibility right in front of him.

“Now stay still everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here,” Moody said in a hushed voice.

Harry was confused why they all felt the need to whisper, but kept silent. A second later, some worn lamps along the wall lit up, illuminating the threadbare carpet and dusty portraits. Harry felt almost like he’d walked into the house of a dead person, with everyone’s attitude.

Thankfully Martin wasn’t gloomy, otherwise Harry was sure he’d be very nervous right now.

Mrs Weasley hurried through a door at the end of the hallway, sparing a glance for Martin before pulling Harry into a bone-crushing hug. “Oh Harry, it’s lovely to see you! You’re looking a little bit peaky; you need feeding up, but you’ll have to wait a bit for dinner I’m afraid…” She looked at the group of people standing around them, and said in that same whisper, “He’s just arrived, the meeting’s started…”

The wizards began filing into the room that Mrs Weasley had just come from – Moody even indicated that Martin should follow with the same slightly threatening expression he had been directing towards Martin all night. Harry made to follow Martin, but Mrs Weasley cut him off.

“No, Harry, the meeting’s only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting’s over and then we’ll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall,” she added urgently.

“Why?” Harry asked, a bit peeved. Martin had lingered a bit behind, eyeing Harry.

“I don’t want to wake anything up.” Mrs Weasley answered, looking around cautiously.

“What d’you — ?”

“I’ll explain later, I’ve got to hurry, I’m supposed to be at the meeting — I’ll just show you where you’re sleeping.”

With that, she began ushering Harry towards the stairs. Harry glanced back at Martin who winked and tapped his ear, before following Moody into the room. The door shut behind him, but Harry got the message – Martin wasn’t letting him remain in the dark.

As Harry was led up the stairs, he stared in confusion at the decorations that looked like they belonged to the darkest of all wizards. What was a group of Light witches and wizards doing in such a house? He kept his mouth shut though, seeing the hurry Mrs Weasley was in.

“Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear. You’re the door on the right – I’ll let you know when the meeting’s over.”

Without thinking too much about it, Harry opened the bedroom door before being tackled by Hermione.

“HARRY! Ron, he’s here, Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless but we couldn’t tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t, oh, we’ve got so much to tell you, and you’ve got to tell us - the dementors! When we heard - and that Ministry hearing - it’s just outrageous, I’ve looked it all up, they can’t expel you, they just can’t, there’s provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations-”

“Let him breathe, Hermione,” Ron cut in with a grin, shutting the door behind Harry. Harry felt a sudden warmth in his chest after seeing his best friends, even more so when a beautiful white bird soared over to land on his arm.

“Hedwig!”

“She’s been in a right state,” said Ron. “Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this-”

Ron stuck out his index finger, which was sporting a half-healed cut.

“Oh yeah,” Harry said, his tone slightly cooler. “Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know…”

“We wanted to give them to you, mate,” said Ron. “Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you’d do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us-”

“-swear not to tell me,” said Harry, his tone noticeably cold now. “Yeah, Hermione’s already said.”

That warm feeling he had when he first saw the two again had boiled into fiery anger. The feeling of loneliness he had experienced before he met Martin seemed to return.

“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione beseechingly. “Dumbledore, I mean.”

“Right,” said Harry, ignoring the marks of Hedwig’s claws on her hands.

“I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles-” Ron began nervously.

“Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows in clear derision. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?”

“Well, no - but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time-”

“Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, even as his gut lurched in betrayal. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?”

“He was so angry,” said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice, her tone only serving to make him angrier. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.” There was a brief moment of silence where Harry considered all the times Dumbledore had failed him in the past. “Aren’t you… aren’t you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?” asked Hermione.

“No,” Harry said honestly. Something in Martin’s voice had told him he was going to be just fine. He walked away from the two, pretending to explore the room to give himself time to calm down.

“So, why’s Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?” Harry asked, with fake casualness. “I’m honestly starting to think he might not have my best interests at heart, no matter what he may claim.”

He watched them exchange a look at the comment against Dumbledore, which was starting to fuel his temper.

“We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on,” pleaded Ron. “We did, mate. But he’s really busy now, we’ve only seen him twice since we came here and he didn’t have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted-”

“He could still’ve kept me informed if he’d wanted to,” Harry said shortly, as he had been thinking about this a lot. “You’re not telling me he doesn’t know ways to send messages without owls.”

Hermione spoke as if she was selecting each and every word very carefully.

“I thought that too. But he didn’t want you to know anything.”

“I reckon our so-called esteemed Headmaster thinks I can’t be trusted with information about my own damn life,” said Harry, studying their expressions.

“Don’t be thick,” said Ron, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

“Or maybe that I’m too immature to take care of myself-”

“Of course he doesn’t think that!” Hermione interrupted.

“So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys’ while you two get to join in everything that’s going on here?” said Harry, his voice thick with suppressed rage. “How come you two are allowed to know everything that’s going on-?”

“We’re not!” Ron cut in, seeming to sense the danger. “Mum won’t let us near the meetings, she says we’re too young-”

And suddenly, all of the pent-up resentment Harry had built up was pouring out of him. The complete silence from their part, the fear from being attacked, the disconcertment at being followed – everything just exploded out of him in that one moment.

“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT — WHO SAVED THE SORCERER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS? WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!”

Ron’s mouth was agape and Hermione seemed to be biting her lip to stop herself from crying.

“BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING?”

“Harry!” A sharp and very familiar voice cut him out of his tirade.

Martin was standing in the room, concern in his eyes, a few people who Harry guessed came from the meeting trickling in after him. Ron and Hermione looked incredibly grateful for the interruption, which didn’t do anything to help Harry’s temper. He wanted to keep yelling, but he couldn’t yell at Martin of all people. The wind had been taken out of his sails.

“Martin,” Harry forced the word out, feeling like he was about to cry, a fact that Martin picked up on immediately as his face softened.

For a second, Harry was afraid Martin was about to hug him, but the man seemed to sense that Harry really didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of all these people. So instead he asked; “are you alright?”

Such a simple question that he really didn’t get asked a lot. It made him feel oddly touched.

“I’m fine,” he bit out, fully aware of the Order members standing in the doorway, looking at him curiously.

Martin’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.

“Emrys, we weren’t done with you.”

Moody was glowering at Martin, clearly wanting him to follow him. For the first time, Martin glared right back, something which surprised the grizzled Auror.

“We can continue your little interrogation later – Harry is more important. Now, shoo.”

And with that, the door slammed shut.

Martin turned back to face Harry, eyes still full of that foreign concern. The man ignored the pounding at the door except to cast what Harry assumed was a silencing ward at it.

“Let me ask again, are you alright?”

“No,” Harry admitted, his fists still clenched.

Martin guided Harry over to the nearby bed that didn’t have Ron’s stuff all over it, just as Harry’s knees were about to give out. The man’s ability to predict his needs was uncanny.

Martin conjured a glass of water and handed it to Harry, who held on to it tightly.

“I’m guessing this is the Ron and Hermione you’ve told me so much about?” Martin said, his tone light.

Harry gave a stiff nod, taking a slow, careful sip of the water.

Martin spun around and presented his hand to Ron and Hermione, who were standing there looking bemused.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Martin Emrys, I spent a little bit of the summer with Harry.”

The two carefully shook his hand as if it was going to bite, which made Harry give a half smile.

“Er… well you clearly know about us at least.” Ron said awkwardly.

Martin smiled gently.

“I may not have met you until now, but Harry certainly has told me a lot about you. You both sound like wonderful friends, and Harry clearly thinks so too, even if he is a bit angry at the moment.”

Harry’s hand clenched around the glass. Martin plopped onto the bed and swung an arm around Harry.

“I’m going to make a lot of assumptions here, and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.” Martin said gently, his hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder in a familiar gesture. “Harry isn’t upset about the fact that you wouldn’t tell him anything -he’s smart, and he understands the need for secrecy- but he is upset about the fact that not once did you attempt to offer him any support.”

Harry’s head snapped up. Martin’s eyes were alight with a fierce…protectiveness…though the fire dimmed slightly as Hermione’s lip wobbled.

“You thought that any letters being intercepted would be a security risk,” Martin said, much more kindly. “But I’m sure information on Harry’s feelings and supportive words wouldn’t leak the Order’s plans to death eaters. And as for the interception, you could have asked one of Harry’s guards to deliver the letters for you, or send it by non-magical post.”

With every suggestion, the two teens began to flush red.

“I understand it may have slipped your mind, but because Harry really needed to speak to you, I think he thought about all of this a lot, which is why he is so angry right now.” Martin concluded.

Harry was a little in awe at the man’s perceptiveness, in all honesty.

“Oh, Harry! I’m so sorry! I really should have thought about this more!” Hermione cried, flinging her arms around him.

“Yeah, sorry mate,” Ron said, looking embarrassed.

“It’s alright,” Harry said. “I get it.”

Martin beamed, which did wonders for lifting Harry’s spirits.

“Now as glad as I am that you’ve worked this out, I do have a meeting to get back to.” Martin said.

He walked to the door, opened it, and walked casually out as if he didn’t see Moody glaring at him balefully from the other side. Harry grinned.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” he said cautiously, as he stood and turned to face his friends.

“I’m sorry for not supporting you as I should have,” Hermione said, her expression sad.

“Then I guess we’re even,” Harry smiled. “So, now that I’m here, what’s going on?”

“This is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” Ron said immediately.

“It’s a secret society run by Dumbledore. It’s a group dedicated to fighting Voldemort – Ron and I have seen about 20 of them but we think there are more.” Hermione added in one breath.

“Any news on Voldemort?” Harry asked, finishing his water.

“Well, we only have a general idea,” Hermione admitted. “We’re not allowed in the meetings-“

“It’s cause of Fred and George,” Ron interrupted eagerly. “They invented Extendable Ears – dead useful.”

“Extendable-“

“Ears, yeah. Only we’ve had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realized what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know-”

“-some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order-” said Hermione.

“-and some of them are standing guard over something,” said Ron. “They’re always talking about guard duty.”

“Me?” Harry asked.

“Oh yeah,” Ron said in dawning comprehension, which caused Harry to huff out a laugh.

Two loud cracks cut into the silence, which caused Hermione to yelp. Fred and George materialised in the middle of the room, sending Pigwidgeon flying.

“Stop doing that!” Hermione said sharply.

“Hullo Harry,” George said, pointedly ignoring her. “We thought we heard your dulcet tones.”

“Yeah sorry about that,” Harry said hurriedly, cutting off Fred’s response. “You two got your license then?”

“With distinction,” Fred said.

“Congrats,” Harry said, looking at the flesh coloured string Fred was holding. “Are those a part of the Extendable Ears?”

“Yep! We’re trying to hear what’s going on downstairs.” Fred said, waving around the string.

“You want to be careful,” Ron said. “If Mum sees one of them again…”

“It’s worth the risk, that’s a major meeting their having. Apparently there’s a new Order member.”

The door opened and Ginny came through.

“Oh hello, Harry! I thought I heard your voice.” She turned to Fred. “It’s no go with the Extendable Ears, she’s gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.”

Harry remembered Martin tapping his ear and the wink that followed.

“Martin removed it,” he realised. The others turned to look at him, puzzled. “Martin, the new Order member that is, as good as told me he took off the charm. Try it, it should work.”

The twins looked at each other, shrugged, and began fiddling around. Tinny voices came through the other end.

“-what exactly was this treasure hunt that you talked about?” Harry recognised Moody’s gruff voice.

“I have no problem disclosing that information, but I think Albus might,” Martin said seriously.

“Yes, that is information for another time,” the Headmaster’s voice came through, which caused Harry to clench his fists.

“Whatever,” Moody said. “How exactly are we supposed to trust you? You have no records, you didn’t go to Hogwarts-“

“I wasn’t aware my private life was any of your business,” Martin said, his voice cold. “I am offering my help, I’ve proven I’m not a death eater, I’ve given you physical proof of my good intentions, your phoenix likes me – any investigation beyond that is not an attempt to be safe, it’s just an urge to satisfy your curiosity.”

“You must admit, Martin,” Lupin started. “You are someone deserving curiosity. That was some powerful magic you used to restrain Mad-Eye-“

“He restrained Moody!” Ron said incredulously, before being shushed.

“-I do make my own spells,” Martin was saying, “which is why you can’t counter them as easily.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“And the Potter boy?” Moody growled. “Why are you so interested in him?”

Harry’s interest was peaked.

“I think,” Martin began, “that none of the adults here have ever bothered to actually get to know Harry. Sure, all of you know of him, some of you may worry about him, but I don’t think Harry has a single adult he can consistently trust and rely on.”

There were angry murmurs throughout the room, and Harry inhaled sharply as he recognised Sirius’s voice.

“Now, surely you don’t mean that,” Dumbledore said reproachfully.

“I understand that some of you are in circumstances beyond your control,” Martin continued, and Harry could imagine him looking at Sirius. “But the point remains that Harry needs an adult who doesn’t treat him like a child, because he never really had a childhood, and doesn’t have grandiose expectations of him because of the words of a drunkard looking to get a job interview!”

There were more mutterings, and even though he wasn’t there, Harry could feel the atmosphere of the room becoming tenser.

“I understand I’m not making myself well liked, and that’s fine. Harry deserves someone to put him first above all else – including revenge – and I hope to do that for him. Destiny has already screwed me over, I don’t want it doing the same to him. Now, is this interrogation over?”

Fred and George began tugging on the string and pulling it in, and Harry could faintly hear the Order members spilling out into the hallway, discussing their latest addition.

Even as Harry reunited with his godfather, watched Martin and Tonks commiserate over their clumsiness as they got yelled at by a portrait, and asked the Order about Voldemort, Harry’s mind was turning over the events of Martin’s interrogation. Martin, though cheerful most of the time, was clearly bitter about something. His voice, when he was speaking of destiny, had sounded so incredibly old and tired. Something had clearly happened to him…what had he said? ‘I fought for my friend and the future we would build.’

Just as Martin swore to help him, Harry would do the same in return.

Chapter Text

Merlin shook his head.

“No, as snobbish as it sounds, you can’t wear that,” he said, eyeing Harry’s jeans and t-shirt.

The teen cocked his head to the side, reaching under his glasses to rub his eyes. Merlin could relate – he slept in late all the time and felt as though 5:45am was an ungodly hour of the morning. Nevertheless, he knew Harry would be much too nervous to sleep for very long and so had gotten up as early as his rotten sleep schedule would allow him.

“Why not?” Harry asked.

Merlin tsked and led Harry back into his and Ron’s shared room. He cast a temporary silencing ward so Ron wouldn’t be disturbed, and flicked his wand so Harry’s trunk began levitating in front of him. The mirror on the nearby wall reflected the barely noticeable glimmer of gold in his eye – the less magic required, the less the unglamourable colour came through.

“This is a trial – very many elite members of society are going to be there and judging your guilt. Normally, I would say that there’s no need, but right now, first impressions matter.”

Merlin saw Harry scowl, and he gave a small smile to reassure the young wizard.

“I understand, it’s not nice complying with things you don’t agree with, but as of right now, there’s nothing we can do to change them. As bitter of a pill as it is to swallow, these people determine whether or not you can still attend Hogwart, so it’s best not to aggravate them.”

Harry sighed, but nodded.

“Martin,” the teen began tentatively. “What if they do think I’m guilty and try to snap my wand.”

Merlin shrugged.

“Then I’ll break you out of the trial room, go into hiding and teach you myself.”

Harry gave a small smile, not understanding Merlin’s absolute seriousness.

Merlin summoned a pair of Harry’s school robes from Harry’s trunk, which closed itself and came to rest at the foot of the bed. With a theatrical wave of his wand, Merlin transfigured them into a black, open robe with a gold trim. Turning to Harry, he transfigured his t-shirt into a green button down and his jeans into black slacks. He also transfigured Harry’s sneakers into black dress shoes.

“Woah,” Harry said. “That’s wicked.”

Merlin smiled. He waved his wand again, making the clothing comfortable and durable, and ensuring the transfiguration would last until he desired to remove it. He handed the robe to Harry, before summoning his own blue one.

“Let’s go get you some breakfast, and then if we have time, we can practice your Occlumency some more,” Merlin suggested.

Between the days of Harry’s arrival and the trial day, Merlin and Harry had been practicing magic, reading up on wizarding law, and practicing Occlumency. Harry was a natural when it came to understanding wizarding law, but he did struggle with Occlumency – every magic user had an area of magic they struggled with. Hell, even Merlin had once struggled with healing magic.

Though Harry’s progress with Occlumency was slower and required a bit more patience, the teen was definitely coming along. The Hogwarts in his mindscape had solidified now and reparation was under way. Harry had commented that remembering things was easier now, and he felt much calmer now.

Many people in the house had disapproved of Merlin teaching Harry - Hermione and Mrs. Weasley in particular - but Merlin wasn’t about to let that stop him. He had promised that he was going to put Harry first after all, and the wards on the house would stop the Ministry from realising they had an actual case against Harry.

He lead his charge into the kitchen, where a few people were already up and – somewhat – awake. Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Sirius, Remus and Mrs. Weasley - who leapt to her feet to start making breakfast.

“What do you want, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley called. “Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?”

“Just — just toast, thanks,” said Harry.

“Have some yogurt too,” Merlin insisted. Harry gave him a dirty look but did eat the yogurt deposited in front of him.

“You’re all dressed up,” Tonks commented to both of them. Merlin gave her a smile.

“First impressions matter,” he repeated the same thing he said to Harry this morning.

Harry was staring at his piece of toast like it had offended him, so Merlin plucked it up and began chewing, ignoring the teen’s indignant “hey!”

“Mrs. Weasley, if it isn’t too much trouble, could you make Harry some porridge?” Merlin said. The woman gave a thin smile, and went to it.

Merlin sighed. He hadn’t really intended to be so harsh at the meeting the previous night, but truth be told, he was quite upset with the way the adults in Harry’s life had treated him. Harry’s wellbeing came first, even above his reputation with the Order.

Thankfully, many had realised he meant well, so they were at least being civil, even if they didn’t particularly like him very much.

A steaming bowl of porridge with cut fruit was placed in front of Harry, who looked at it with dread.

“I know you’re nervous, but eat. An empty stomach won’t do you any good.” Merlin said. “Imagine if you were in the trial room, and everyone was all serious, and your stomach growled.”

Harry gave a weak chuckle.

“That would be pretty embarrassing,” he said. Merlin gave his shoulder a squeeze, a gesture he had been doing a lot recently. It seemed to help, as Harry relaxed slightly.

“Trust me Harry, I’m going to get you out of this. They don’t have a leg to stand on and they know it,” Merlin said with absolute conviction.

“Thanks Martin,” Harry murmured before beginning to eat his porridge.

“I will be taking you to the Ministry, if that’s all right,” said Mr. Weasley -not Arthur, never could be Arthur- brusquely. “The hearing’s on my floor, in Amelia Bones’s office. She’s Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she’s the one who’ll be questioning you, Harry.”

“We should leave as early as possible,” Merlin suggested. “In case of sabotage.” Noticing Harry had just about finished his porridge, and he had finished his toast, rose to his feet.

Sirius and Remus muttered platitudes to the teen, who got to his feet rather quickly. Mrs. Weasley bustled over with a wet comb, and began ferociously attacking Harry’s hair.

“Doesn’t it ever lie flat?” She asked in despair. Merlin chuckled.

“Allow me.”

He waved his stick and a small wind buffeted around Harry. When it disappeared, Harry’s hair was still messy, but in a more styled way. Harry picked up a (clean) spoon and examined his hair in the reflection. Merlin scrutinised the teen’s glasses.

“I really should have gotten you better ones,” he said, eyeing the Sellotape. “Can you even see out of these?”

But Harry was staring at him in awe that was only slightly faked.

“Ok Martin, I’m now convinced you’re the second coming of Merlin. No one has ever gotten my hair to not look like a disaster!” The teen exclaimed gleefully, before thinking. “Come to think of it, your names are kind of similar…”

Merlin flinched slightly, but hid it well. He leaned forward and spoke in a conspiring stage whisper.

“Truth is, I really am the immortal warlock Merlin. I changed my name to Martin because it sounds so similar to my actual name without all of the stigma.” A small laugh rung through the kitchen.

“Alright,” Mr. Weasley cut in. “Time to go – it is a bit early, but like Martin said, there could be sabotage, and in any case, it’s better than hanging around here,” he said, somewhat nervously.

Merlin waved his wand, a long piece of parchment appearing with a fountain pen that immediately began scribbling.

“New…glasses…” Merlin said as the pen wrote, before smiling triumphantly.

Harry got to his feet and peered over Merlin’s shoulder.

“What is this?” he asked curiously.

“My plans for world domination,” Merlin said with a grin that was mirrored on Harry’s face. “I’ll tell you about them as we get to the Ministry, or after your trial.”

With a few hurried goodbye’s, the trio stepped out of the door, Merlin explaining.

“I need to give you a full checkup – don’t make that face, you need it, and if it’s any incentive it could mean your magic gets stronger. Oh-“ he said, cutting himself off. “Why are we walking? I’ll just Side-Along Harry.”

Mr. Weasley looked a bit embarrassed for a second, but turned on his heel and disappeared with a sharp crack. Merlin offered his arm to Harry, who looked at it dubiously.

“It’s not as bad once you do it a few times,” Merlin assured him.

Harry still looked unsure but grabbed his arm anyways. Merlin concentrated on the lobby of the Ministry and let his magic pull him away.

Merlin always found modern magic strange – it was like putting a shoe on the wrong foot. With some practice you could get it to work just fine but it felt distinctly wrong. Nevertheless, when you had 1500 years to practice, there’s not much that you’re bad at.

Merlin had always loved learning magic. From the moment Gaius had placed his very first spell-book in front of him, Merlin was filled with the burning desire to devour the contents, make the precious knowledge second nature. The banned nature of the content didn’t stop the feverish hunger and nights spent in the cold gloom of Kilgharrah’s cave, pouring over various books.

Merlin loved to learn.

Once his life in Camelot was over and he had moved on, he spent years travelling the world to discover himself. He delved into arcane knowledge that he took to like a duck to water – magic came easy to him (aside from healing spells on himself, but that was a side effect of his loyalty).

It was on these trips that Merlin found out exactly what he was.

And he was definitely not human.

The… woman he had met used the word Primordial. Something that had existed since the dawn of Time.

There were seven of them in total – Time, Chaos, Order, Death, Life, Destiny, and… Magic.

Destiny -the woman- had informed him remorselessly that he had never been human. Magic was always around, he had just chosen to gain a human-like consciousness. Some Primordials, such as Magic, Death and Destiny had chosen to live in a humanoid form, while the rest slumbered in an entirely different state, but Merlin – Magic – was the only one of the three to truly embrace his human form.

Merlin didn’t feel all powerful. If he was, then he could help everyone. Then Destiny wouldn’t chide him and stop him from intervening. Then Arthur would never have died.

No, Merlin didn’t feel like a Primordial at all.

But he was, apparently.

The sheer emotional impact of that statement made him shy away from fully accepting what he was. He buried himself in more human arts – law, sword fighting, healing – learning all he could that grounded him.

Merlin liked being human. He liked the burn of emotions that Destiny didn’t seem to be able to feel. He like the wonder he felt at the world around him.

And he especially loved caring for other humans.

So that was why he was putting his human skills to the test. To help Harry. And it all depended on this trial.

The Ministry of Magic was a familiar place to Merlin. He had worked here for a few lifetimes, though it certainly wasn’t one of his favourite places. The Ministry workers who were there seemed to agree, as they glumly stumbled through the early morning.

Merlin absentmindedly threw in a few galleons into the St. Mungo’s donation fountain, as per his tradition of doing so every time he came to the Ministry. While he may now be an accomplished Healer, not all wixen were and they had to rely on the hospital to help them. And though he was more cautious and jaded about the whole thing than he was in his youth, Merlin still loved helping others.

“Over here,” Mr. Weasley said, directing Merlin and Harry to a small standing desk labelled SECURITY. A wizard in blue robes put down his copy of the prophet and eyed them in a way that said; “I could not care less if you dropped dead right now.” Merlin gave him a flat stare and rested his elbows on the desk, just to piss the wizard off.

“I’m escorting two visitors,” Mr. Weasley said, gesturing at the two of them. The wizard produced a gold rod and waved it around the two.

“Wands,” the wizard said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Merlin leaned forward so no one but the security wizard could see his face and felt his eyes glow gold as his intent and magic coalesced. The wizard shook his head slightly like a dog shaking off water, even as Merlin passed his polished stick to him.

“Yes, that seems to be fine,” the wizard said after dropping it on a set of scales that shot out a piece of paper, doing the same for Harry. He handed their wands back, before his eyes flicked up to Harry’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Merlin said with a thin smile, gently steering Harry away towards the queue for the lifts, Mr. Weasley hurrying to catch up.

Once they placed themselves in the queue, Mr. Weasley began making conversation with another wizard. Merlin, with a flash of gold, made sure Harry’s fringe was fully covering his scar.

Eventually, they managed to find themselves on Level two. Harry began tentatively asking Mr. Weasley some questions, but Merlin had the feeling that they were missing something. He sent his magic out in threads to search for the source of his uneasy feeling, and his eyes narrowed as he came across something with a sliver of Harry’s magical signature – likely from Harry’s name on a letter and the slight magic owls would use to find him. He reached his hand up in the air, which did get some odd looks that disappeared once a memo whisked into his hand. Merlin unfolded it, read it, and cursed.

“I knew they would do this, those absolute prats. They’ve changed the time of your trial.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“8am in Courtroom 10, they have some nerve,” Merlin ranted, before a sly smile spread over his face. “They’ve just given me more ammunition,” he said, putting the memo in the pockets of his robe. “We have 5 minutes – I’ll take him, don’t worry Mr. Weasley – Harry let’s go!”

Merlin began sprinting for the lift, Harry on his heels.

“Did they change the time to sabotage me?” Harry wheezed as Merlin kept up a punishing pace.

“Most likely,” Merlin said, pressing the down button for the elevator. “Use this time now to catch your breath, we need to make it look like we haven’t been running for our lives.”

Harry chuckled slightly, though he had tensed up in worry.

“Relax,” Merlin said, squeezing his shoulder. “Even if we get there late, that will be on them for failure to send out appropriate notice.”

Harry nodded, some of the tension bleeding out. The lift doors creaked open and Merlin began briskly walking to where he vaguely remembered the Courtroom door to be, stopping in front of a dark door with a large iron bolt.

“And with 30 seconds to spare,” Merlin grinned at Harry who smiled back. “You ready?”

Harry steeled himself before nodding his head. Merlin gave him a reassuring smile before turning the iron door handle. The occupants of the room hushed and Merlin made sure his face was blank – something he had always struggled with. He strode into the courtroom – the picture of confidence, following just a step behind Harry, who while not confident, was certainly resolved.

Merlin noticed a few Death Eaters sitting in the stands, Lucius Malfoy being among them. Merlin had no intention of allowing them to vote against Harry.

“You’re late,” a cold voice rang out.

“Right on time actually Minister,” Merlin said coolly. “Martin Emrys, legal defence of one Heir Potter – which by your own laws he has complete legal rights to,” he introduced sharply, cutting off any questions.

The Minister blustered for a bit as Merlin slowly but surely began to take over the trial.

“Yes, well, take your seat,” Fudge said, indicating the chair in the center of the room which was covered in chains. Harry grew visibly nervous.

Merlin clicked his tongue before waving his wand and transfiguring the chair into a much more regal and comfortable looking one, which Harry took with much more confidence. Merlin’s sharp blue eyes flicked to the Minister, who looked vaguely constipated. Merlin came and stood behind the chair.

“Before we begin,” Merlin said. “In the case of Ministry vs. Heir Potter, the defendant would like to press charges for failure to send notice of the change in time of the trial. As per the Wizengamot Charter of 1844, a minimum of 24 hours notice must be given when the time of a trial is changed. A time-based tracking charm on this note,” Merlin said, pulling the memo out of his pocket and sending it fluttering to the Wizengamot table, ”reveals it was sent only 5 minutes ago.”

Fudge at this point was looking both constipated and angry. He had turned this lovely reddish-purple colour that Merlin had to supress a grin at. The angrier Fudge got, the more likely he was to make mistakes or forget things in comparison to someone who actually had experience presiding over a trial. Merlin had used this technique on Arthur liberally – annoying him until he forgot Merlin’s… suspiciousness.

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August, Ministry of Magic vs Harry Potter,” said Fudge breezing past Merlin’s statement, though Merlin noticed the red head sitting near him had noted down what he said, “into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley —”

“The defence would like to inquire why the prosecutors are presiding over the trial,” Merlin said in a bored tone, staring at Fudge. In truth, he wanted Fudge to keep asking the questions, because Merlin would be able to damage his reputation easier if he was constantly speaking. But this would be another black mark against Fudge.

Fudge reddened again.

“Now see here, I am the Minister of Magic-“

“As the case is Ministry of Magic vs Heir Potter, that makes you even more biased. However,” and Merlin didn’t even bother trying to hide his shark-like grin, “the defence is willing to allow you to continue – unless of course, you don’t feel able to.”

Fudge had the wary look of a man knowing he was being baited, but unable to see the issue with what Merlin was saying. This was why Merlin had decided to have a career in law, for one lifetime at least.

Merlin glanced at Harry, who was giving him a very “what the fuck?” kind of look, and he winked discreetly. Harry still looked confused, but seemed to accept that there was a method to Merlin’s madness.

“— Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” said a quiet voice from behind Merlin. Harry tensed up but didn’t turn around, though Merlin did address the man.

“Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. If your input is needed, you will be called upon,” Merlin said. The man looked taken aback, but Merlin had a plan and he would not let Dumbledore meddle with it. Fudge, on the other hand looked pleasantly surprised and relieved. Merlin would make sure those feelings didn’t last for very long.

Dumbledore conjured up a fluffy armchair and sat down in it, looking at Merlin expectantly.

“Yes,” said Fudge again, seeming to remember he was supposed to be running a trial. “Well, then. So. The charges. Yes.”

He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, “The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy. You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge said, deliberately ignoring Merlin.

“Yes,” Harry said.

“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?”

“My client was sabotaged by a house elf named Dobby,” Merlin said, ignoring Fudge’s attempts to cut him off. “An elf who used to belong to Lucius Malfoy – Harry, if you would summon him?”

Merlin needed to make sure that Harry had a clean slate, and Dobby was the first step in doing that.

“Er… Dobby!” Harry said, ignoring Fudge’s outraged rebuttals. Merlin didn’t though.

“Minister, if you’re not going to allow my client to defend themselves in a trial, then I can assure you, Heir Potter will sue the Ministry for obstruction of justice.” Merlin said sharply, thoroughly enjoying Fudge’s skin going chalk white.

Fudge’s response was cut off by a pop and a little house elf looked around in wonder at the scene he had arrived into. Merlin had to hide a grin at Lucius’s face.

“Great Master Harry Potter sir?” Dobby exclaimed. “Headmaster Dumblydore? And- eep!” he cut himself off with a squeak as he made eye contact with Merlin. Merlin smiled and shook his head discreetly and Dobby calmed down as much as he was capable of. “What can Dobby be doing for you’s?”

“Would you be willing to swear a temporary truth oath?” Merlin asked. “One of the prosecutors can verify its validity.”

“Of course, Master Emrys,” Dobby said in a rush without questioning the order, nodding so fast Merlin was almost concerned his head was going to follow. “I, Dobby the House Elf, swears that I am about to speak only the truth.”

A small flash of white light emerged from Dobby’s raised hand, and a red head came down from one of the stands. He waved his wand over Dobby and a second white light flashed.

“The charm has detected the presence of a truth oath Minister,” the red-head who was probably a Weasley said in a snooty voice that Merlin was familiar with – it sounded like the same tone of voice Uther’s advisors would use to pander to the King and show disdain to everyone else. Merlin hated it.

“I do think this is a waste of time!” Fudge insisted, even as the Weasley made his way back to his seat.

“Nothing is a waste of time when it comes to ensuring justice is seen,” Merlin said, eyes narrowing. He noticed Madame Bones’s approving look at that, and hid his smile. If he could sway the Head of the DMLE… “Unless Minister, you have something to hide?”

“Very well,” Fudge said, eyes narrowing in response.

“I’ll keep this simple. Dobby, were you the one to cast the Hover Charm in Number four Privet Drive in the summer of 1992?” Merlin asked. He knew if he asked the right question, he could implicate Lucius Malfoy, but that was an entirely different can of worms, and anyways, Merlin planned on taking Lucius down later – if all went according to plan.

“Yes, Dobby was.” Dobby answered, and before he could continue, Merlin cut him off.

“That is all we needed, thank you Dobby.” Merlin said with a smile.

Dobby looked between Harry, Fudge and Merlin before letting out an excited squeal that was cut short when he popped away. Merlin and Harry stifled a laugh.

“So, let that first infraction be struck from Heir Potter’s record,” Merlin said. The Weasley was still scribbling away even as Fudge was turning a lovely shade of puce.

Seeing as Fudge wasn’t going to say anything, Amelia Bones spoke up.

“Due to new evidence, the charge will be struck from his record. Heir Potter, I’m sure the Department for the Regulation of Underage Sorcery will issue a formal apology.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly but strongly.

“Seeing as we have come to the conclusion that this should have been Heir Potter’s first offense, this trial should not have happened in the first place,” Merlin said firmly. “However, Heir Potter would like to deny the remaining charges against him, and address his own charges against the Ministry.”

A squat, toad-like witch, dressed in a horrendous shade of pink, coughed and stood up.

“Surely, dear, Mr. Potter has no charges to press against the Ministry?” She said in a voice that grated on Merlin’s nerves. He was generally patient but something about this woman made Merlin want to punch her.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Merlin asked flatly.

The witch cleared her throat again.

“Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.”

“Umbitch, was it?” Merlin asked, professional as you can be. Harry choked next to him, and Umbridge turned red in fury. “As this is before the Wizengamot, this has become a case of the Ministry vs Harry Potter. Both sides are able to press charges, and I assure you, my client does wish to do so.”

“Umbridge,” the witch corrected through gritted teeth.

“My apologies,” Merlin said in a way that heavily implied he wasn’t sorry at all. “Now if we may move one? I would hate to waste the Wizengamot’s precious time.”

“Yes, do go on Mr. Emrys,” Amelia Bones said, leaning forwards in interest.

“My client performed a Lumos charm, which he will admit to. However, as I’m sure you all know, a few decades after the non-magical’s Industrial Revolution, performing that charm in the presence of non-magicals, though it should be limited, is legal as the Lumos light on a wixen’s wand can appear to be a fancy gadget or torch. Therefore, he can not be accused based on that.

“My client would also like to address the charge of breaking the Statute of Secrecy,” Merlin said, briefly scowling at the mention of the eradication of his Destiny. “The muggle present was in fact his cousin, and so, exempt from the Statute of Secrecy-“

“That doesn’t change the fact he performed the Patronus Charm outside of school!” Fudge cut in triumphantly.

Merlin let a smile spread across his face slowly.

“Yes Minister,” he agreed to the surprise of many in the room. “That would be a problem… if my client, instead of I, had in fact been the one to perform the Patronus charm.”

There were shocked murmurings throughout the courtroom. The Wizengamot was watching the proceedings with avid interest – Merlin kept surprising them.

“That is ridiculous,” Fudge blustered. “Most adult wizards cannot cast a Patronus-“

“And yet you’re all too willing to believe a 15 year old can?” Merlin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sure,” Amelia Bones began, “this court would benefit from a demonstration Mr. Emrys.”

“It’s a little big…” Merlin trailed off, pretending he hadn’t been expecting this.

“I think this is all some big story and you can’t even do the charm!” Fudge said, glowering at him.

“Very well,” Merlin said smoothly. “If you insist, Minister.”

He raised his stick, and clearly spoke the words so the entire chamber could hear him.

“Expecto Patronum,”

From his stick and massive dragon came soaring out. There were many shouts of alarm, and Fudge actually fell out of his chair. Harry was staring slack jawed at the dragon that filled the chambers, and Dumbledore was looking very curious. Merlin let the ruse continue until he willed his dragon -Kilgharrah- to shrink into the size of a lizard that flew around the chamber once before vanishing.

“Well,” Bones said, clearing her throat. “I think it’s safe to say we all believe you.”

Merlin allowed himself to chuckle.

“Bloody hell Martin,” Harry breathed out.

“Checking Heir Potter’s wand with a Priori Incantatem will also show the last spell he cast was the Lumos, and not the Patronus,” Merlin said, casting the spell and demonstrating. “If you wish to verify that, please go ahead.”

There was silence for a second as a lot of the Wizengamot was still in shock. Merlin smirked slightly before sobering up.

“Now I would like to address the reason why I cast the Patronus charm.” Merlin said seriously, causing the Wizengamot to pay attention. “Dementors.”

Fudge scoffed.

“A likely story. Dementors in Little Whinging – I did think we’d be hearing something like this.”

“I, Martin Magus Emrys, swear on my magic that Harry James Potter was attacked by two dementors on the eve of August second.”

There was a flash of light and a gasp from the crowd. Of course, the vow didn’t stick, being that Merlin didn’t use his true name, and a creature of magic couldn’t be tied to a magical vow like those who simply used magic could. But the Wizengamot didn’t need to know that. Merlin cast a Lumos spell to prove he still had his magic.

“Now, I would like to ask the Wizengamot two things; why were two dementors in Little Whinging, and why did Ministry officials send out letters for magic that never happened?” Merlin paused for dramatic effect. “It’s almost as though someone in the Ministry knew that two dementors were going to be after Heir Potter, and thought he would be forced to use the Patronus or be Kissed.”

Among the shocked gasps and exclamations, Merlin heard a faint “hem hem.” The witch form before had risen to her feet.

“I’m sure I must have misunderstood you, Mr. Emrys,” she simpered through her hateful expression. “So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!”

Merlin smiled a cold smile.

“If not for the ‘automated’ letter sent by the Ministry, I may have been swayed to believe that there were simply two rouge dementors. However, the facts remain.”

The witch’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to think of something to say. Bones finally seemed to control herself.

“No official statement will be made but your claims will be investigated,” Bones said, and Merlin noticed Umbridge go white. “Now moving on to the vote-“

“Before the vote begins, my client would like to address one more thing,” Merlin said, gleefully noticing Bones’s exasperated expression.

“I do?” Harry asked quietly. Merlin let the grin he was hiding show in his eyes.

“My client feels as though allowing those who have actively harmed him vote in a trial that decides his future to be worrisome,” Merlin said, not even bothering to hide his steady stare at Malfoy, whose face remained blank.

All eyes in the room followed Merlin’s gaze to the Malfoy Lord, and jaws dropped.

“Surely you aren’t suggesting Lord Malfoy to be guilty of attacking the Potter boy?” Fudge said incredulously. “He is an upstanding member of society, and the boy is a liar!”

“So far,” Merlin said lowly, “all of ‘the boy’s’ claims have been proven true. Let it be noted that the Minister sees fit to address Lord Malfoy by his appropriate title but not Heir Potter.”

Fudge flushed.

Merlin turned to Harry.

“Heir Potter,” he began formally, “if you would allow me to extract the memory of the night we spoke of from your mind?”

“Surely this isn’t necessary,” Malfoy began, ignoring Harry’s nod. “Memories can be faked after all.”

Merlin gave a flat stare.

“Not by a child with limited exposure to pensieves,” Merlin said. “My client will of course be making a wand oath to prove their validity.”

Malfoy’s expression didn’t change much but Merlin could see the light of desperation in his eyes. A few protests from other Death Eaters sounded and Fudge looked ready to use them as an excuse before Merlin cut in.

“The one’s protesting this action are the one’s my client is accusing. You have no need to worry… unless you have something to hide.”

“I will allow it,” Bones said, peering down from her stand.

“You surely can’t show the entire chamber,” Malfoy said. “That would require far too many pensieves.”

Merlin smiled his famous shit-eating grin, the one that even made Arthur nervous. Malfoy at this point was probably pissing himself.

Merlin reached for the pouch-like bag he had brought with him, opened it, and waved his wand. Tiny stone objects came whizzing out until each one was levitating between a pair in the Wizengamot – everyone but the security wizards had access to a pensieve. Another wave of his wand and they all grew to be normal pensieves.

Harry let out a surprised laugh and Lucius Malfoy’s famous mask shattered, and he looked increasingly desperate. Merlin carefully extracted the memory, copied it and sent a copy off to each pensieve. Dumbledore was examining his pensieve carefully, apparently deeming it normal.

“I do not wish to view the memory,” Malfoy said. “In fact, I have an urgent obligation to attend to-“

“Please, Lord Malfoy,” Merlin said dangerously, “I must insist.”

Merlin could see Malfoy calculating his odds of escape before he resigned himself to viewing the memory under the weight of suspicious gazes.

“My client will now make the wand oath.”

Harry stood from his seat, confident in what to do as Merlin had explained it to him. He gripped his wand tightly in his fist, and raised it slightly in the air.

“I, Harry James Potter, swear on my wand that the memories in each of those Pensieves are my own recollection, and have not been tampered with in any way,”

When his wand remained intact, Merlin watched as the Wizengamot became nervous or excited. Amelia Bones was looking particularly eager.

“Same time,” Bones said. “Now.”

It was quite amusing how ridiculous the so-called sophisticated members of society looked. Well, at least it was amusing for the first 20 minutes. Then it started getting a little old.

Merlin entertained himself by laughing and joking around with Harry. Dumbledore seemed like he wanted to say something but held himself back. Merlin shrugged. It wasn’t his problem, and Merlin didn’t really want to talk to the young wizard anyways.

The minutes dragged on and it all faded into monotony. Therefore, the events that followed happened at a speed that Merlin struggled to process.

Slightly petrified looking members of the Wizengamot emerged from the pensieves and the ‘fight’ began. As the death eaters were severely outnumbered and they couldn’t apparate from the chamber, they were easily taken down by the security wizards as soon as they figured out what was going on. They were bound and unconscious, which made Harry let out a slow breath.

Fudge muttered something about “compensation” as he hurried from the chamber, not meeting Harry’s eyes. Amelia Bones managed to spare a moment to cast the vote and close the trial, almost everyone voted in favour of Harry – except for Umbridge. Dumbledore swept out of the room, not looking back, even as Harry tried to get his attention.

Merlin quickly summoned his pensieves and shrunk all except one. He pulled the scroll out of his bag and steered Harry to the door.

All the commotion had alerted the reporters that something big was going on. Merlin pulled one aside at random, absently taking note of her curly blonde hair and long nails. He handed her the scroll, and she quickly read it, scowling as she realised it was a very strict contract.

“Sign it, and I promise you’ll have the story of a lifetime. All I’m asking is you don’t sensationalise it – after all, why would you when the truth is much more exciting.”

Still scowling, the woman signed the contract. Merlin handed her the shrunken pensieve and pulled the memory from his head and deposited it into a conjured glass vial.

Merlin lead Harry to the Ministry lobby, taking the glass elevator whose occupants all stared at Harry. Throughout the journey back to the lobby, Merlin was smirking the entire time.

When the passed the St. Mungo’s fountain, Harry emptied his entire money pouch into the pool at the statue’s feet.

“Well,” Merlin said. “At least for now, the trials and tribulations are over.”

Chapter Text

“You look far too pleased with yourself,” Harry said, although he was grinning too.

Merlin dramatically stroked the copy of the daily prophet with his free hand which was emblazoned with several eye-catching titles; “YOU-KNOW-WHO’S RETURN,” “MINISTER FUDGE HIDING THINGS FROM PUBLIC,” “HARRY POTTER CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES,” “MYSTERIOUS LEGAL REPRESENTATIVE EMBARRASSES MINISTRY IN LATEST TRIAL.”

The last one was his favourite.

Merlin laid down his triple 10’s onto the center pile, picking up Harry’s 7 of diamonds that he had placed down. Harry grimaced at the action before putting down an 8 of spades and drawing from the pile.

“Don’t you think I deserve to be pleased with myself?” Merlin exaggeratedly preened. Harry chuckled.

“Maybe a little bit…” the teen admitted.

Merlin placed down his newly acquired pair of sevens and drew an ace from the pile. He hid his smirk. Harry placed his pair of sixes down and drew one from the pile. That brought him down to five cards. Merlin had four.

“Nerf,” he said when it was his turn again, revealing his ace of spades, pair of twos and four of hearts. Harry frowned showing his ace of hearts, jack of clubs, two of clubs and a pair of threes.

“That’s 9… and that’s 19. Dammit Martin, how are you so good at this game? You win every time!” The teen complained, though there was a smile on his face.

“What are you playing?” Hermione asked curiously, peering over Harry’s shoulder as Merlin gathered the cards into a pile. Ron took the empty seat at the table.

As Harry began explaining the game, Merlin left the teens to it, but not before reminding Harry they had to do his check-up today.

When Merlin reached the room he had been assigned, he let out a sigh. He had spent a lot of his life in isolation, it was odd living in such a crowded house again. It was odd talking to so many people again.

The Order had warmed up to him after the trial and his exposure of Voldemort’s continued existence. Now that Riddle had been forced out of the security that came when the world thought you were dead, he was more unpredictable, but ultimately disadvantaged as now the world was expecting him.

Merlin knew he had painted a target on his back, and Harry’s as well, not that the teen didn’t have one to begin with. Now it was accompanied by a large flashing arrow pointing helpfully towards the bullseye.

Thankfully, Harry had found himself some aid in the form of Dobby the house elf. When Merlin had summoned him the previous night, the elf had been all too eager to help “The most magic-y Master Emrys and Great Master Harry Potter sir.” What was slightly more surprising was Kreature’s involvement.

The elf had told him the Dark Magic saturating the house had kept him from realising just who Merlin really was and he apologised in a rush. Merlin had eventually calmed him down.

At some point in the conversation Kreature brought up the beliefs he was raised with, and Merlin had to gently correct the behaviour. He confessed to the elf his hope that one day, the wixen and non-magicals could live amongst each other in harmony. The elf had looked terribly confused and torn, and left the conversation, but not before he promised Merlin he would do his best to help, “even the Potter boy and his mudbl-, Potter and his friends.” Merlin praised him and Kreature left with a new spring in his step.

That conversation left Merlin deep in thought about his dream of a united place where magic-users could roam freely. He knew that it wasn’t supposed to be entirely up to him – he and Arthur together would be the one’s to bring magic back to the land.

Merlin missed Arthur. Whenever he walked, there would always be a little bit of room to his left. When he had to attend some pretentious gathering, he would always imagine Arthur at the head table making faces at him when the others were not looking. The world’s colours had dulled in comparison to the blue that Arthur’s eyes had been.

Yes, Merlin missed Arthur.

As an immortal, it was easy to lose touch with reality. Sometimes, Merlin was tempted to let himself go and slip into the dreamy state Freya permanently stayed in now. The loneliness was drastic.

Of course, Merlin made friends, but they too were lost to the claws of Time and Death. And after Freya, Merlin didn’t have the heart to take on another lover. They simply couldn’t understand him, and he was much, much older than them so it didn’t feel right.

Nevertheless, he found relationships to bury himself in. He found that he actually quite liked teaching – he had several lifetimes of knowledge to pass on. Harry was one of his many students he had taken on over the years, magical or non-magical.

Harry took well to learning about his heritage. He was surprisingly good at wizarding law for someone who hadn’t learned much about law at all, and he understood the various concepts Merlin explained easily.

They had taken a break from his studies into law as Harry needed some time to process the revelation that he was the Heir to an old wizarding bloodline, and would inherit its power when he turned 17 or was emancipated, whichever came first.

This normally wouldn’t be such a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that the Headmaster knew and never told him. In fact, several people had known but never told him, simply assuming he knew.

Harry hadn’t directly confronted the Headmaster yet, mainly because the man refused to speak to him, but Merlin could see the teen was hurt and confused. He had attempted to reach out first, but had seen that Harry simply wanted to be left alone for a bit to think.

That hadn’t stopped them from learning other things – Harry loved to learn, he simply had held himself back a lot. He wasn’t a genius yet, but Merlin knew the teen had a lot of potential.

It was fun to show off, Merlin had decided, when Harry had been in awe at the room around him coming to life, the very walls and floor moving of their own accord. Harry had demanded to know the spell, which made Merlin chuckle.

He had enjoyed Harry’s face when he told him he couldn’t learn the spell… simply because there wasn’t one.

Magic isn’t about precise wand movements and stuffy Latin phrases. Magic was about intent and willpower, visualising the desired outcome and using the power within you to make it happen. Magic couldn’t be confined to a certain flick and a mumbled word, or even to a wand though he didn’t mention that part to Harry, magic came from within the user.

Harry wouldn’t know the feeling of pure magic ever, he simply only had a small portion of Emrys’s magic (god, Merlin hated thinking of himself like that), which was good because if he did try to cast a spell from pure magic he’d probably explode.

Merlin knew from experience that it was hard to get guts off your wall, and even when you managed it, the smell lingered for a while. And Merlin liked Harry and really didn’t want the teen to explode.

So, no pure magic for Harry, but he could still learn how to use the filtered magic within himself to make things happen without the need for spells which was what Merlin had been teaching him alongside his Occlumency.

Merlin shook himself out of thought and wandered downstairs looking for something to eat. He waved to Harry, Ron and Hermione who were engrossed in a game of Nerf, and meandered into the kitchen where he began making himself a sandwich.

A magical aura pressed lightly against his own.

“Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Merlin said calmly, carefully putting cheese on his sandwich.

“Martin,” Dumbledore answered mostly jovially. Merlin noticed a slight coolness in his tone and supressed his rising eyebrow.

“Can I help you?” Merlin said, still not looking at the man. Should he do shredded chicken, or ham?

“Ah, yes, indeed you can.” Dumbledore said, slightly taken aback he was not being paid attention to. “I wanted to congratulate you on the trial. I must say that’s not what I had in mind when I first came in.” His tone was slightly reprimanding. Merlin thought hard about his next move, and eventually decided on chicken.

“It could be said that it was the best outcome, however.” Merlin said. He had been playing this game for a long time and he was not about to be told off by a man who was less than a tenth of his age.

“Possibly.” Dumbledore answered, falling silent.

He seemed to be waiting for Merlin to speak. Merlin added lettuce. The silence dragged on. Merlin added a slice of tomato.

“Well,” Dumbledore said, coughing slightly. “If there is a next time, could you possibly let me know if you plan to do something? It was quite surprising at first.”

Merlin added cucumber.

“To be frank, Headmaster, I didn’t know you were going to be doing anything. I’ve seen more of Harry this summer than you have, and I’ve only just met him recently. How was I to know you had a plan for the trial beforehand?”

Merlin considered making a comment about how now the Headmaster knew what Harry was feeling, but decided to add condiments to his sandwich instead.

“Ah,” Dumbledore coughed uncomfortably. He seemed to be doing that a lot, should Merlin offer him a lozenge? He didn’t actually have one, but he could conjure one up. What flavour would Dumbledore like? Maybe the honey and lemon one? Wait, did the flavours have anything to do with the effect? So, should he not conjure a honey and lemon one? Wait, he needs to ask first. Has the moment passed? Would it be awkward to ask now? Ah well, he didn’t care.

“Do you want a lozenge?” Merlin asked, interrupting Dumbledore who seemed to be making excuses for ignoring Harry. Dumbledore took the interruption in stride.

“No thank you, my boy.” He said, smiling genially, eyes twinkling aggressively. Too aggressively. Merlin hid his smile. Arthur did say he was naturally irritating.

“Then whilst I have you here, I’d like to lodge my application for Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”

Dumbledore blinked and Merlin grinned. He surprised himself slightly with the spontaneous decision, but honestly, it had a lot of benefits.

“Mr. Emrys, you are quite young. Do you have any teaching experience?”

Merlin nodded.

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t apply otherwise. Here are my credentials.”

Merlin handed Dumbledore a slice of bread, eyes glittering gold and a mischievous smile on his face. Dumbledore carefully took the bread and examined it carefully. His eyes glazed over slightly.

“I must say, you are slightly overqualified for the position.” Dumbledore said. “This is quite fortunate, considering I haven’t had any applications so far.”

“So, do I need an interview or do I have the job?” Merlin said, trying not to laugh at the intense look of concentration Dumbledore was giving the slice of bread.

“I must verify these and do a background check first, but if that’s all normal then you certainly have the job.” Dumbledore said.

“We don’t need to do a background check, right? Considering you have so few people applying.”

“No, of course we don’t need to do a background check. Where on earth did you get that idea?”

“I can’t imagine,” Merlin said, smiling slightly. “Now, if we’re done here, could I have my credentials back please? I need to finish making my sandwich.”

“Of course my boy, here you go.” Dumbledore handed him the bread, which Merlin quickly finished his sandwich with. “I must go, I have many matters to attend to, but I look forward to seeing you again, Professor Emrys.”

“As do I, Headmaster.” Merlin said. It was only after the man had left the kitchen that he allowed himself to giggle. There was no harm in a little joke, frankly he had a lot of teaching experience and was most definitely overqualified, it’s just that Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to find Martin Emrys’ references anywhere. Well, anywhere except a slice of bread.

He took his sandwich upstairs, wolfing it down rather unattractively. Once he had entered the room where he had left the trio, he found Hermione triumphantly laying down three aces and Harry and Ron sullenly holding hands all above 20 points.

“I swear you’re counting the cards,” Ron grumbled.

“Is that not what you’re supposed to do?” Hermione asked, grinning cheekily.

Merlin laughed, drawing the trio’s attention.

“Oh, hello Martin,” Harry greeted. “You got your sandwich then?”

“Yup, and a job.”

Harry blinked.

“And a what?” Ron asked, confused.

Merlin sniffed primly.

“Mr. Weasley, do show some more respect when addressing the professor of DADA. Five points from Gryffindor.”

Ron gaped.

“You’re the DADA Professor? Since when?”

“Oh, about two minutes ago. Dumbledore found me and my sandwich in the kitchen, and decided he liked my credentials. It’s lucky too, seeing as we only have like, 15 days till term starts. I reckon if I hadn’t applied when I did, some Ministry toady would have hopped their way in.”

Harry grinned.

“That’s brilliant. And with a Patronus like yours, you’ll definitely be good.”

Merlin smiled back, before remembering why he was here.

“Oh yeah, Harry, I need you to come with me. There’s no way you’re winning the next round anyways, so you may as well.”

“That’s a little rude,” Harry complained, but stood up anyways, waving goodbye to Ron and Hermione. “Where are we going?”

“I just remembered I needed to give you a full medical check-up.”

Harry froze mid-step. Merlin smiled sympathetically.

“I know, but you can trust me to keep whatever I learn private.”

“Yeah, I can…” Harry trailed off uncertainly. Merlin cursed in his head slightly and pulled back his magic. He had noticed that his magic had the effect of making magical creatures and users trust him more, which on the surface seemed innocent, but the trust generated could be extreme. Merlin remembered one time where he made an offhand comment to a racist dwarf about cleaning off his sour attitude in the river, and the dwarf had chucked himself in. It reminded Merlin to be much more careful about letting his magic loose, and when he fished the dwarf out with magic, the dwarf had apologised. To him! For being forced into the river. Merlin made him apoligise to the pixie for being racist before viciously tugging in his magic and hightailing it out of there.

Back to the medical check-up at hand, Merlin’s magic had apparently decided to calm Harry down, and the teen was now walking next him quietly, a slight frown on his face. Merlin hated how controlling his magic could be, but it seemed to act independently of him sometimes. Though, the effect wasn’t usually too bad.

Reaching Harry’s room, Merlin directed the teen to the bed, where he had him lay back in a relaxed position.

“Now, just so you’re aware of what’s going to happen, I’m going to cast a spell. You’re going to feel a tingling sensation around and inside your body, and the spell is going to let me know any major injuries you have had, and any current injuries you may have now. What happens after that depends on the information I find out, okay?”

Harry nodded, avoiding Merlin’s gaze. Merlin sighed, and his hand came to rest on Harry’s shoulder.

“I have a vague idea of what to expect from this, from what I learnt in your Occlumency training. You need to understand you have nothing to be ashamed of, you grew up in a hostile environment and ended up as an incredibly kind person despite it.”

Harry nodded again, though it was less stiff this time.

“Okay, I’m casting the spell now.”

It was a good thing Harry wasn’t looking at Merlin just then, as his eyes flashed golden and he pretended to wave his wand. A list of information bombarded his mind, and his eyes narrowed. Harry’s eyesight was awful, he was near-sighted with a prescription of -5. He was about a foot shorter than he should have been because of malnourishment and he had several unhealed fractures.

“So, what’s the news, Doc?” Harry joked weakly.

“I am going to purge every fowl thing that has been done to you from your body.” Merlin said lowly and carefully. “Starting with the fractures that haven’t healed properly. This may hurt a bit.”

Merlin gave a sharp flick with his wand, and Harry’s limbs tensed, before abruptly relaxing. Harry’s nose scrunched up in pain.

“That wasn’t pleasant.”

“Sorry,” Merlin said, apologetic for not giving the teen much choice or warning. “That’s going to ache for the next day, but it will feel loads better after, I promise. Now, your vision.”

Merlin waved his wand again, and two glowing, tiny bowl shaped things landed on his fingertips.

“These are magical contact lenses,” Merlin bullshitted, pointing at the useless balls of light. “You won’t have to take them out, and they should help fix your vision. Take off your glasses, close your eyes.”

Harry looked wary but obeyed. Merlin gently pressed his fingers against Harry’s closed eyes, and sent his magic into the teen’s eyes to fix them. The teen hissed.

“That’s warm.” Harry said redundantly. Merlin smiled.

“Open your eyes.”

Harry obliged, blinking at the light. When his eyes met Merlin’s, Merlin snatched his glasses and disintegrated them.

“Hey!” The teen complained, before realising he could see. “Woah! This is better than my glasses!”

“Your glasses were the wrong prescription,” Merlin explained, feeling a burst of hate for Harry’s sour aunt. Harry didn’t notice, taking in the room around him with wonder.

“Lastly, did you know you were supposed to be about 30cm taller.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Seriously? I could have been taller than Ron?” He asked incredulously.

“Yup, let me tell you, I really hate your family right about now.”

Harry hesitated slightly.

“How are you gonna fix it?”

Merlin smiled ruefully.

“I’m gonna do something I’m not really supposed to be able to do. I’m gonna push a lot of magic into your body, and it’s going to help your core heal your body. So it’ll be you doing a lot of the work, with some help from me. You’ll find you grow a lot within the next two weeks, so you’ll be eating a lot more than normal. But in the end, you should be around 190cm, which makes sense as both of your parents were quite tall.”

Harry’s eyes were wide.

“Ready?” Merlin asked him, gathering up his magic. Harry nodded.

Merlin rapidly pushed his magic into Harry’s body, sending it to the teen’s core to power it up a little bit. Harry’s core was certainly above average, but it couldn’t keep up with the demand on it most days. It was busy trying to heal Harry from the damage he suffered, and so couldn’t work properly. Hopefully, the teen would see an increase in the efficiency of his magic once this process was over.

Harry’s eyes squeezed shut rapidly before opening wide. He sat up straight on the bed, body shaking. Merlin was slightly alarmed to see his eye glowing gold slightly before they returned to their normal vibrant green.

“Blimey, Martin, your magic is so fucking concentrated it’s like chugging straight hot sauce but in a good way.” Harry said, once his magic settled. Merlin let out a surprised laugh.

“I’ve been told something similar, but never in a way so creative.”

Harry smiled, before shyly looking away and clearing his throat.

“Look Martin, I really need to say this more. Thank you. You’ve only just met me, and you’ve done so much for me. I don’t even know why, but I trust you, and you’ve done nothing to betray that trust. So, really, thank you.”

Merlin gave a soft smile, and pulled the teen into a hug.

“You’re welcome.” He let go of the teen and stood up.

Before he could do anything else, Merlin felt a tug, and Harry froze. Merlin frowned, and gold leaked into his eyes as he whirled around.

In front of him stood a woman. The first thing Merlin noticed was the silver. Silver hair, silver eyes, silver clothes. She even had a silver aura of sorts. She was also frowning. Merlin frowned back at her. He recognised that face.

“Destiny.” He greeted, not impolitely but not with any enthusiasm, the gold leaving his eyes. He stilled, cautious of needing to be in the same place when Time resumed.

“Magic.” Destiny returned. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“I’ve told you not to call me that. Respect the name my mother gave me.”

“She was only the vessel who carried you, Magic. Don’t be offended, I treated my own mother the same way.”

“Poor woman,” Merlin grumbled, not arguing with Destiny despite wanting to defend his mother. From having the same argument several times, he knew it was pointless. “What can I help you with? Why have you stopped Time?”

Destiny scoffed.

“Time is only a concept, and it was never meant to be stable. Time is made to be messed with, Magic. You too have done this.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’m just curious.”

Destiny studied him silently for a moment. Merlin met her gaze head on and tried to hide his unease. Something about Destiny made his hair stand on end.

“You are rather close with Harry Potter. His summer was not meant to be this way.”

Merlin didn’t say anything. Destiny’s expression soured slightly.

“You even taught him Occlumency. I cannot express to you how much has been changed because of this, Magic. You would do well to remember who controls the Primordials.”

Merlin hid his scowl. Destiny, who had the ability to manipulate the world the way she saw fit, could also dictate the actions of Primordials. Which made sense, she was responsible for his own destiny, no matter how far away that may be. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But I wont back out on him now, he doesn’t have an adult who looks out for him.”

Destiny’s eyes narrowed.

“I will not rewind Time this time, Magic. Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

She turned away from him, presumably to vanish into thin air.

“Wait,” Merlin said.

Destiny stilled.

“I must ask,” Merlin began, voice quiet. “When is Arthur going to return?”

Destiny spoke, not turning around to look at him.

“When the time is right.” She paused, and her next words were harsh. “Perhaps that time will come faster if you don’t interfere with the fates I have planned.”

And with that, she disappeared. A small, floating, silver horse was left in her place, and it cantered around the room. Before Time could resume its course, Merlin reached out with his magic and gently stilled it. At the same time, he reached out his hand, and the horse came to rest on his palm. Merlin rolled his eyes. Typical Destiny, she couldn’t leave without some sort of exit, even if it was just leaving the animal representing her behind.

Despite his feelings about Destiny, Merlin did love her spirit animal. And everyone else’s, even if most of them weren’t conscious, or rather, human enough to recognise them. Time’s is a turtle, slow and steady. Though the other Primordials seemed to have fun metaphorically flipping it onto it’s shell. To be fair, Merlin was doing that right now.

Death’s is a raven. Life’s is a butterfly. Order’s is a dove. Chaos’s is a snake. And Merlin’s, of course, was a dragon. Some of their animals seemed a bit strange, though they did make sense if he thought about them.

The horse vanished into smoke. Merlin’s wistful smile faded. Despite Destiny’s warning, he couldn’t not interfere. Gold seeped into his eyes slowly.

“Sorry Arthur,” Merlin said with only a small amount of regret. “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer.”

And with that, Time resumed.

Chapter Text

The summer had been surprisingly pleasant, but Harry was glad to return to school. Hogwarts would always be his home, no matter how glad he was to have experienced the summer holidays.

Classes at Hogwarts had stepped up the pace. Only just under two months into his OWL year and Harry was already over the aggressive warnings from his professors about how important the year was and how much more challenging it would be. He didn’t need the warnings – the pile of homework he was drowning was testament enough to the year’s difficulty.

Well, it wasn’t all bad. After the reordering of his mind, Harry found he was able to concentrate much easier. The negative memories that had been left unchecked and unprocessed had been constantly wrecking damage on his ability to learn, especially the one where he vowed never to surpass Dudley. The added closure to those alone meant that information he was learning actually stuck around in his brain for a long time instead of being destroyed, and the completion of his Occlumency shields and mindscape meant that focusing and recalling information was much simpler. If he wanted to remember something, his mental library would search through a catalogue and bring it to the forefront of his mind at rapid speeds.

His mindscape was constantly improving too. Not only were systems being added to increase its efficiency, but Harry had added the Hungarian Horntail he had faced last year to guard his thoughts and memories. It swooped around his mental Hogwarts, occasionally landing on a tower to breathe golden fire.

Not only had the condition of his mind improved, so had the condition of his body. Harry had rapidly shot up to a height of 190cm within two weeks of Martin helping him. He was just as tall as the other wizard predicted, and delighted being able to look down on Malfoy where he once had to look up. Malfoy himself wasn’t pleased, especially since Harry had bulked up a bit due to the influence of his magic and was no longer physically intimidated by his two goons. It felt like his magic was overcompensating for him not being able to grow before and decided he would get a little more than he bargained for. It would have been all perfect except his body ached and his joints were a little sore, but Martin reassured him that it would go away.

He was aware he looked quite different now, and he was starting to feel a lot more comfortable in his own body than he had been. Although just because he was used to his new look now, didn’t mean other people were.

It took Hermione and Ron a little while to notice because they had seen him everyday as he grew. Ron surprisingly was the first one to notice out of the two. After a game of chess (where Harry actually had been close to winning!) they stood up at the same time and Ron finally noticed that where he had stopped straightening up, Harry had kept going for another inch or so. The redhead had blinked in confusion for a second before demanding that Hermione come check to see if she was seeing what he was seeing. In hindsight, the whole thing was pretty amusing.

Mrs. Weasley had been delighted that he was putting on a little more weight. She saw it as her cooking doing its work, and Harry wasn’t about to tell her otherwise. Sirius had ruffled his hair and told him that he’d make a proper ladies’ man out of him. Harry had very mixed feelings in regard to that statement. Snape, who hadn’t seen Harry until the end of his two-week growth spurt, had frozen, stunned, before giving him his signature sneer and marching off to Dumbledore, no doubt to speculate about how this change had happened. Harry thought he was just bitter that he could no longer loom over him.

Harry’s favourite reaction, however, had been Malfoy. He ran into the boy alone in the hallway of the train, and he noticed that it took Malfoy several seconds to recognise him. He had let out a stunned “Potter?” and simply stared up at him, blinking dumbly. Harry had fought off his smirk and raised a brow, before asking if there was a “problem, Malfoy?” The blonde had attempted a scowl, not quite succeeding, before spinning on his heel and stalking away, his cheeks angrily flushed red. Since then, the blonde had taken to glaring at Harry when his back was turned and pretending he wasn’t when Harry made eye contact with him. Harry found it very amusing.

Perhaps less amusing was the reaction of the general Hogwarts populace. Some had gawked for a few seconds before taking it all in stride. Others… not so much. Some girls had taken to following him and giggling behind their hands. He couldn’t decide if that was worse than people going up to him and claiming that they believed his story about Voldemort’s return all along. In the end, he decided both were equally bad and moved on.

He was currently taking refuge in Martin’s office and supposedly finishing his Charms homework. Once every two days, the two would meet up in Martin’s office, either to have a lesson, individually do work or have an unofficial therapy session where Harry more often than not ended up lying on the floor on top of Martin’s several comfortable rugs. This current session was a mix of the second and third option, as Harry had originally started off by doing his Charms essay but had now devolved into a rant about an unusual subject matter… Hermione.

“I can’t believe her,” Harry complained, glaring at Martin’s desk. “Just because I’m actually doing decent in school now and am getting spells faster than her means that I’m cheating. I mean, I know we talked about this a little while ago and she was one of the reasons I didn’t want to improve myself because I subconsciously didn’t want this to happen, but now that it has, I can’t believe it.”

“I can,” Martin countered patiently, spinning his quill in between his fingers.

Harry glared at him. Martin stared impassively back. There was a short battle of wills before Harry sighed and broke the eye contact.

“Why?”

Martin put his quill down and steepled his fingers. Harry’s gaze was drawn to the rings that decorated his hand.

“Hermione is a very intelligent girl, but from some of the stories you’ve told me and the memories you’ve shared, she pretty much exclusively focused on her schoolwork when she was younger. Eventually, as a result of this, her concept of self-worth became intrinsically tied to her grades and performance in class.”

Martin didn’t elaborate, allowing Harry to come to his own conclusions.

“So, when I outperform her in things she’s always been better than me in, she thinks she’s getting worse, so she sees herself more negatively? And then to avoid seeing herself more negatively, her brain twists the story so I’m the one who must be cheating and she’s not getting worse, when in reality, she’s still doing well but so am I?”

Martin gave him a proud smile and Harry’s heart fluttered. He ducked his head shyly so the man couldn’t see his blush.

“Exactly. Hermione’s smart and she’ll come to realise this soon enough. Try to keep your cool and give her some time to think and I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Harry nodded. It wasn’t ideal, but Hermione would hate to be told any of this - she would feel better if she came to her own conclusions once she had time to be a bit more rational. Martin was always right about things like this. Martin tended to be right about most things. Speaking of which…

“Martin, this might be nothing, but I wanted some advice…”

Martin smiled at him, blue eyes crinkling around the corners.

“It’s never nothing if it’s important to you.”

Harry smiled bashfully, feeling a lot better about bringing up the slightly embarrassing topic.

“I’ve been having a weird dream…” he began tentatively, peeking up through his eyelashes to gauge the professor’s reaction. Martin gave him a patient look and Harry continued, a lot less hesitant. “It’s about this stone made of obsidian, it’s small and jagged, and it has so much power. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. But it’s trapped in something twisted and tainted and it makes me sick and angry just thinking of it there when it should… well… when it should be mine.”

Martin’s eyes had widened slightly before he started giving Harry a measuring glance. Harry felt extremely small under those piercing blue eyes.

“Have you seen the stone before?” the professor asked him.

“No,” Harry admitted. “But in the dream, I know that the stone belongs to me.”

Martin leaned back in his chair, the intensity in his eyes fading. Harry relaxed into his chair.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like an ordinary dream, but I’m not exactly sure what it means.”

Harry sighed, a little disappointed despite himself. Apparently, he had pretty high expectations of Martin that he hadn’t even realised. It was a little bit of a stretch to expect Martin to be able to provide a reasonable explanation for a dream Harry himself hadn’t even processed yet.

“That’s okay, I didn’t really expect you to know.”

They fell into silence for a bit, Harry fiddling with the edge of his Charms homework. Martin was looking into space contemplatively, eyebrows furrowed. He seemed… not exactly worried, more so concerned.

“How dangerous does the stone feel?” Martin asked after a moment.

Harry glanced at him quizzically – that was a strange way to word the question. He thought about his response carefully before he gave it, though when he spoke the words came from a part of himself he wasn’t quite familiar with.

“It’s very dangerous, almost malevolent, but it can’t hurt me. It’s mine.”

Harry was aware he wasn’t making much sense, and sounding a little insane, but the answer seemed to satisfy Martin.

“I’ll look into it for you, Harry,” the man promised, and Harry gave him a grateful smile. He knew he could always rely on Martin.

A knock at the door interrupted that train of thought. Martin called out a quiet but assertive “come in!” and the door swung open. Harry could not say he was pleased to see who was on the other side.

“Madame Umbridge,” Martin smiled pleasantly, “what a lovely surprise.”

Umbridge. The bitch from his trial had weaselled her way into school as Hogwarts High Inquisitor to spy on him and Dumbledore. The public was not on hers and Minister Fudge’s side after the reveal of Voldemort’s return, but Umbridge still managed to get in by claiming the paperwork was already done and it would be a waste of taxpayer’s money to change plans now. She was grudgingly accepted by most as High Inquisitor then, but all of Hogwarts hated her and the threat she posed to their favourite professors. Harry was hoping she would get rid of Snape, but since the trial she seemed to hold a grudge against Martin, even though he was quite possibly the best teacher Hogwarts had ever had.

Martin’s first Defence class with the fifth year’s had changed lives. Harry wasn’t even sure if he was exaggerating when he said that.

In that first lesson, when Harry had first walked in and headed towards seats in the front, he had hesitated. Something about the chair he was going to sit in felt… wrong. It quickly became apparent once Hermione had sat down and Harry felt a pulse of familiar magic. Immediately, his friend’s excited speech about their class had been cut off with a sneeze. Hermione had blinked before sneezing again. And again.

Malfoy had sneered.

“Keep your filthy germs away from me, Granger”

Harry had glared at him even as the blonde casually sauntered over to his seat and sat down. As soon as he did, there was another pulse of familiar magic, and he went cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out.

Harry had gone to warn Ron, but oddly enough, the redhead was also looking warily at his chair. Meanwhile, across the classroom, various ailments were befalling the people who hadn’t realised something was wrong with their chairs. Susan Bones had begun clearing her throat and simply hadn’t stopped. Terry Boot had begun squirming around in his seat uncomfortably as if fire ants were crawling in his pants. Goyle’s hair had fallen off.

Far too late, people began catching on and even then, they were looking around the room for an attacker, wands out. However, every time they touched either their desk or chair, they too got hexed.

And just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. People began returning to normal although no one had relaxed at that point. Harry had mentally visualised a thread of magic reaching out of him like a third limb, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Ron look around, puzzled. He had put that thought aside to mull over later and had simply focused on sending his magic across the room. As soon as it reached the professor’s desk, it became rapidly aware of another presence and retreated into Harry like a startled snake.

A moment later, Martin had appeared on the desk which caused Ernie Macmillan to let out an aborted, high-pitched screech. Martin was grinning.

“Welcome,” he had said casually. “I am Professor Emrys.”

The class had simply stared at him in silence. Everyone looked a mix of angry, scared and confused, except Harry, who could feel a smile slowly growing on his face. That was a test, and not many people had passed.

Martin studiously avoided Harry’s gaze, but he could see the grin on his Professor’s face grow. No one in the class spoke up but Martin’s eyes locked on someone’s.

“Mr. Weasley, would you like to take a guess at what happened seeing as you and Mr. Potter were the only ones who seemed to realise before it happened to anyone?”

Ron had flushed as the attention of everyone in the room turned to him.

“The desks and chairs were cursed.”

Martin had smiled.

“Very good! And would you mind explaining to the class how you knew not to touch them?”

“Well…” Ron had begun. “They felt… funny.” Malfoy sneered but Ron carried on. “They didn’t feel malicious exactly, but I felt like if I touched them, something bad would happen.”

Martin’s grin was blinding. Harry was surprised that Ron could also feel magic, but that shock was immediately overrun by pride for his friend.

“Exactly! What Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter were feeling was my magic tied to the furniture. The reason why it wasn’t malicious feeling magic was because I felt no malicious intent when casting the curse. It was simply a lesson to trust your gut and be prepared for anything, because where magic is concerned, everything is possible.”

Martin’s smile had dimmed for a second, but he continued without anyone but Harry realising anything was amiss. Harry felt the desks and chairs shimmer with magic again.

“Now,” Martin had continued. “I have reapplied the spells to your furniture, and what you are going to do is cast a detecting spell to figure out what curse is on it. To some of you it may be obvious but humour me. To my knowledge, you covered an extensive list of detective spells last year under the tutelage of Professor Crouch?”

The class had hesitantly nodded, but Harry could almost physically see them warming up to Martin. The man had an aura that inspired trust and respect, and a fair amount of awe.

Martin gave another blinding grin and clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful! Before we begin, I must inform you, there’s a catch. You are to complete this task without saying the spell aloud – if you attempt to verbally cast the spell, an alarm will go off and the curse will strike.”

“But Sir,” Hannah Abott protested. “We’re not supposed to cover silent casting until next year.”

Martin’s lips had curved, and Harry looked on in awe.

“Says who?” The man had said in a tone that uninvited further argument. “Now, let’s get started!”

The class had grumbled but hesitantly took their wands out to begin casting.

Harry took out his wand and took a breath. This was easy, him and Martin had done this heaps of times over the summer. But, in the spirit of the lesson Martin was trying to teach, Harry gently cajoled his magic into exerting his will. What he cast wasn’t a spell exactly, but simply his magic performing what he wanted because he asked it.

The words “Tickling Hex” appeared over his chair in red, and everyone stared.

“Well done Mr. Potter.” Martin said. “Take 10 points to Gryffindor. Can you explain what you did?”

Harry had given a firm nod.

“Normally with casting, it’s about forcing your will through your wand until it responds. For non-verbal casting, you need even more willpower and focus. But instead of forcing my magic, I simply asked it to do what I needed.”

Martin had smiled proudly, and Malfoy sneered.

“What kind of bull is that? Magic isn’t your friend, it’s a tool that you force to bend to your will. If that’s actually how you did that, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Well then I hope you’re hungry Malfoy because Potter wasn’t wrong,” Theodore Nott said coolly, above his desk the words “Colouring hex” hovering in magenta. Malfoy’s eyes had widened before he glanced away.

Martin’s eyes glimmered.

“Excellent Mr. Nott, take 10 points to Slytherin!”

Harry could see Nott visibly fighting off a proud smile, but he may have only noticed because he knew what kind of reactions Martin inspired in people.

Throughout the lesson, Harry had felt Martin’s magic seep into the room, encouraging everyone else’s magic into performing the spell nonverbally. Goyle had tried to cheat, startling everyone as the alarm went off and his hair fell out for the second time. Martin had told him to go to the hospital wing after class to get it fixed. Eventually, everyone had accomplished the task except for Malfoy, who was standing there, visibly flushed in anger and embarrassment. Harry smirked, but didn’t say anything, knowing his silence would be the most infuriating thing for Malfoy in that moment.

The bell had rung, and Malfoy still hadn’t managed to detect the curse on his furniture. Martin had dismissed the class before calling out “stay behind Mr. Malfoy,” right before the blonde boy could make his escape. Malfoy had sulked back to Martin’s desk and the last thing Harry saw before he left the room was Malfoy’s scowl and Martin’s patient smile.

Harry still wasn’t sure what Martin had said to Malfoy in that short discussion, but whatever it was led to Malfoy being a lot more reflective and a lot more respectful to Martin.

Harry was abruptly brought back to the present by the sound of infuriated screeching.

“-horrible pranks all the time, and I demand you fix it!”

Now that Harry took a closer look at her, she did look a little haggard. Her hair was frizzy, her clothes wrinkled, and he thought that might have been a little gloop on her blouse.

“Madame Umbridge,” Martin said with infinite patience. “It sounds to me that Hogwarts herself has an issue with you. Maybe if you were to be a little more respectful to her and apoligise, the… unfortunate luck you are facing will calm down.”

Umbridge scoffed.

“This is like the nonsense you were saying earlier about Voldemort being back. A castle can’t be alive you idiot, that is the most ridiculous-“

Before she could finish, a strong gust of wind blew her out of the room and slammed the door. Harry heard the lock click. He blinked and looked at where Martin’s hands were still on his desk, no wand in sight. He ignored the pounding at the door.

“Anyways,” Martin said. “What was I saying?”

And that was that.

Chapter Text

Merlin hummed lightly to himself as he walked down the big steps leading into the courtyard, beginning to head to Hogsmeade. He was leaving late and most of the students had already gone, but he made sure to smile at every student he passed, knowing that even a small smile can brighten someone’s day.

Arthur would have called him a loon.

Merlin’s smile flickered for a second, but it was back in place the next, just in time for two second-year Ravenclaws to pass him, waving eagerly.

“Hi Professor,” Harry said brightly, falling into step with him, Ron and Hermione by his side. Harry and Hermione had finally made up after their argument, Hermione apologising for immediately assuming the worst in Harry.

“Morning Mr. Potter, Miss. Granger, Mr. Weasley. How are you three?”

Harry made a face.

“It’s still weird hearing you call us that.”

Merlin chuckled slightly.

“It’s weird for me too. I’ve never really been good at addressing people properly. It got me into trouble a lot. It was actually how I met my best friend.”

Hermione perked up.

“You have a best friend, Professor? What is he like?”

“A bit of a prat, really.” Merlin answered honestly, causing Hermione to choke and Ron to laugh. Harry though was eyeing him closely. “But he was a good man, and a great leader.”

“Was?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“He’s dead now,” Merlin said bluntly. Hermione gasped and Ron winced. Harry flinched and his gaze didn’t leave Merlin’s eyes. Hermione began rambling.

“Professor, I’m so sorry, we didn’t-“

“You loved him, didn’t you?” Harry asked lowly. “There’s something in your eyes that just tells me.”

Merlin felt his heart stutter. He should probably be concerned with how well Harry could read him but he supposed it was a trade off for how well he could read Harry. Hermione hit Harry on the arm.

“Harry that’s so insensitive!”

“No, no. It’s okay Hermione.” Merlin cut in. He had had over 1500 years to come to term with his feelings. “Harry’s right. I’ve only ever loved one man, and he died before I could tell him. Not that I would tell him, he was happily married and his wife was also one of my best friends. I couldn’t do that to them.”

Harry was frowning.

“I’m really sorry you lost him, Martin.”

“I’m sorry too,” Merlin said. “But I always have hope for a better future. If I didn’t, I’d have gone stir crazy by now.” He shook himself off. “Well, that was a depressing start to the morning, and on a Hogsmeade weekend too! What’s your plan for today you three?”

The trio glanced at each other but accepted the change of subject.

“Honeydukes first, then Ron wants to go to Zonko’s and I need a new quill, and then we meet up in the Three Broomsticks.” Hermione listed.

“Sounds wonderful. Do you mind if we share a carriage? I think there’s only one left at this point.”

The trio agreed happily and the four of them made their way to the carriage where they saw one other person petting the thestrals.

“Hello Harry Potter,” a girl with silvery-blonde hair greeted. She turned to Merlin, eyes wide and sparkling with admiration, and bowed her head slightly. “Hello Emrys.”

“Professor Emrys, Luna.” Hermione corrected, frowning at the girl.

Ah yes. Luna Lovegood. When Merlin had first seen her in one of his classes, he knew the girl, like Morgana, was a seer of sorts. She didn’t have the same kind of prophetic magic that Morgana did where visions appeared in her sleep, but she did possess the ability to simply know things she wasn’t supposed to. Such as Merlin’s true identity.

He wasn’t too worried about her knowing though. Despite her unfocused eyes and frequent daydreaming, Luna was a smart girl. She wouldn’t tell anyone. Merlin was a bit irritated that now she would only see him as the so called ‘Legendary Warlock’ than just ‘Professor Martin Emrys’ but he supposed you couldn’t have everything.

“It’s all right, Miss. Granger. I understand she didn’t mean offense.”

Luna’s eyes widened.

“No, no! I didn’t mean any offense at all.”

Hermione glanced at her speculatively before seeming to notice the thestral that Luna was patting.

“Luna… what are you doing?”

“Petting the thestrals,” Luna responded in a dreamy voice. She grabbed Hermione’s hand before the witch could object and placed it on the thestral’s head. Hermione started.

“They’re real?”

“I told you already, Hermione.” Harry responded, sounding a mix between annoyed and amused.

At the sound of Harry’s voice, the thestrals perked up and began crowding over to Harry. Harry looked surprised and backed away, overwhelmed by the attention the skeletal horses were trying to give him. Merlin frowned and stepped in front of him.

“Hey,” he said sternly. “Back up.”

One of the thestrals whined and attempted to peak behind Merlin. Merlin could feel the nervousness and slight curiosity Harry was feeling from his magic, so he stopped the thestral’s head from moving any closer.

“No.”

The thestrals huffed, but obeyed, returning to their original position. Hermione started again when the thestral she had been petting before it moved shoved her hand and nonverbally told her to pick up where she had left off. She resumed patting it hesitantly.

“What just happened?” Ron demanded.

“They love you, Harry Potter.” Luna said curiously. “You, who have been marked by Death…”

Merlin stiffened, and his hand came up to grasp Harry’s shoulder. Luna’s eyes flickered to Merlin’s.

“…and Magic,” she continued.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

Luna laughed, the sound like tinkling bells.

“You don’t need to, Harry Potter, all will become clear in time.” She turned away from the carriage and started walking towards the castle. Apparently, she had only come to pet the thestrals, not head to Hogsmeade.

“Wait!” Harry called out. Luna stopped and turned, but she was looking at Merlin, not at Harry.

“You know, Emrys, I wouldn’t mind giving up what I have if it meant helping you.”

“That’s very kind of you, Miss. Lovegood,” Merlin said, not really understanding what she was talking about. “But I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

Luna laughed and skipped away.

“You will!” She called out over her shoulder. “And she can’t even know!”

The four of them stood staring at her retreating back in confusion before Harry snorted.

“So, the Express wasn’t a one-off then.”

“Guess not,” Ron added, laughing slightly to get over his visible discomfort. “That girl really is crazy.”

“Quite possibly,” Merlin agreed. “But I’ve found that things are often not what they seem when it comes to people like Miss. Lovegood.”

Harry gave him a quizzical look, but Merlin decided not to elaborate. God, he was starting to sound like Kilgharrah.

“Shall we go in the carriage then?” Hermione asked, moving away from the thestral to the carriage door. The other three agreed and they all clambered in somewhat awkwardly.

“You know, Fred and George told me that Umbridge is still trying to deny that Voldemort is back,” Ron piped up in a very obvious change of subject. Merlin raised a brow.

“Yes, the last time I saw her, she was trying to deny his return, like how she denied that Hogwarts didn’t like her. Next second, Hogwarts kicked her out of my office.”

There was no obvious surprise on Ron and Hermione’s face, so Merlin assumed Harry had already told them the story, but they still laughed at Merlin’s retelling. Merlin’s own lips twitched as he remembered the toad flying out of his office. This morning at breakfast, she was all disgruntled and couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Fred and George won’t stop talking about you, you know?” Ron added. “After Harry’s trial transcript got out, they called you a hero for calling her ‘Umbitch.’”

Harry laughed.

“I almost died when I saw it happen in person. Martin, you’ve come closer to killing me than Voldemort has.”

“Harry!” Hermione protested, but she was laughing too.

The carriage came to a stop, and the four of them clambered out, Hermione giving the thestral she hadn’t believed in a half-hour ago a quick pat.

Merlin himself also wanted to go to Honeydukes, he had always loved Sugar Quills, even though they weren’t really discreet anymore as every teacher knew what a Sugar Quill looked like. He continued chatting with the trio, though he did have to briefly stop to answer a question a fourth year had about a spell he was struggling with.

As he placed his confectionary on the counter to pay, he encountered a problem.

“My, my! Mathew Emrys?”

Namely the older than he had any right to be shop clerk (and if that wasn’t hypocritical than he had no idea what was).

Merlin gave a charming smile.

“Mathew was my father. I’ve been told we look very alike.”

The old man chortled.

“My boy, you look identical! Why, if I didn’t know he was older than you, I would say you were him!”

Merlin carefully kept his smile in place and pulled out his money. The trio were looking at him curiously, but Merlin had had to deal with several people recognising him over thousands of years. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“Same taste in sweets too, if I remember correctly!” The old man said.

“It’s hard not to get too addicted when your father keeps them around for most of your childhood,” Merlin added lightheartedly.

The clerk laughed and rang him and then trio up, before finally letting Merlin out of his scrutiny.

The four of them exited the store before splitting up. Ron wanted to go to Zonkos, Hermione needed her new quill, and Harry and Martin headed straight to the Three Broomsticks. They grabbed a table in the busy pub and ordered two butterbeers.

Merlin stared out of the window of the Three Broomsticks, looking out to the cobbled street of Hogsmeade where several Hogwarts students laughed and chatted with their friends. He was unable to shake off the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

“So, what was your father like?” Harry asked. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Merlin smiled slightly.

“Very much like me. Honestly, sometimes I felt like he was more ‘me’ than I was.”

Harry chuckled.

“A lot of people compare me to my father. Even Sirius does it sometimes.” Harry fell into silence and Merlin gave him his full attention, knowing the teen had something he wanted to say. “I used to really like it, but now I really just want to be known for being my own person. Not James Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived, just Harry.”

Merlin smiled comfortingly. He was really proud of the growth he’d seen in Harry over the past few months. The teen was really becoming his own person, he just couldn’t see it yet.

“It doesn’t matter what the world sees you as, just what those who are closest to you see you as. And Harry, personally I think you’re doing very well at being ‘just Harry’ as you put it.”

Harry smiled.

“Thanks Martin.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence for a bit, before Harry spoke up.

“Martin… is it really okay to love another man?”

Merlin’s eyes flickered over to Harry’s sharply, before calming down as he saw no accusation in them. More like genuine curiosity.

“It’s perfectly okay. Some people may try to tell you otherwise, but they’re bigots.”

Harry let out surprised laugh before his eyes lowered and he stared very determinedly at Merlin’s tankard of butter beer.

“And… is it okay to not love anyone in that way at all?” He said intensely, knowing that Merlin would get what he was implying.

Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Of course it is. Some people just don’t experience any kind of romantic or sexual attraction towards other people. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Harry slumped in relief.

“Thanks Martin,” he said, finally feeling brave enough to make eye contact. Merlin made his gaze as reassuring as he could. “I… see you as an older brother to me, you know? I’m not even sure how we became close so fast, but I trust you.”

Merlin felt the slight well of guilt he did every time his magic made people want to trust him.

“I promise you, I will do my best to never break your trust.”

Well, he was lying to Harry right now, wasn’t he?

Before Merlin could send himself down that spiral again, he tensed up. Something was very, very wrong here. He felt the intent to apparate from a large group that was tinged with a malicious edge. As soon as they appeared, he felt Anti-Apparation wards go up around all of Hogsmeade. And then he felt very, very malevolent intent directed for the Three Broomsticks, and his ‘wand’ fell into his hands.

“Harry, we’re under attack!” Merlin leapt to his feet, wand drawn, golden shield springing from the tip. A massive boom impacted the shield, the Three Broomsticks shook, but the shield held. There were confused exclamations outside and panicked yells inside. Harry had gone pale, but his breathing was steady, and his eyes were glittering with determination. Merlin knew there was no way in hell the teen was going to leave this fight.

Merlin wrestled control over Time and the world stood still. Time was unlike the other Primordials in the way that he was bound to a constant sleep. Merlin wasn’t sure how he knew, but if Time were to be let into a human form, the world would fall into an apocalypse. He was certain of it, but not sure where the information came from, he was just grateful to whoever bound Time. Probably Destiny, she was the most powerful of them all, and with how much she liked control, she wouldn’t want someone like Time running around and inspiring Chaos.

Bringing himself back to the frozen present, Merlin thought very carefully about what he was going to do. He had to appear within a normal range of power, but he wasn’t going to put his secret above peoples’ lives.

He had learnt better from that mistake.

Merlin inhaled slowly and exhaled sharply. As the air rushed out of his lungs, he released his control of Time and the sound of panic filled his ears. Merlin carefully used his wand to silently make a hole in the glass of the window of the inn, thanking the privacy wards surrounding it. He pointed his wand through the tiny hole, and a cloudy spell shot out of it, striking one of the Death Eaters and making his eyes go unfocused. The gold glimmer of his shield disguised it and his attack went unnoticed.

The Death Eater he had struck apparently became overwhelmed by the chaos surrounding him and fainted. Another one nudged him with his foot but the man just garbled nonsense. Merlin grinned, an overpowered Confundus charm was a lot better than a stunner for permanently taking someone out of a fight.

Harry pulled on his sleeve and jerked his head towards the door insistently. “Ron and Hermione,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the rest of the bar.

Merlin nodded his head sharply. With his shield, he had managed to protect the adults and students in the Three Broomsticks but he had also managed to draw attention to the establishment.

Merlin forced himself to think like a wizard limited by their own powers and glanced around, spotting the pebbles on the ground outside. A spark of mischief gleamed in his eye.

“Hey Harry, have you ever heard of Origami?”

Merlin determinedly strode to the door of the Three Broomsticks. As soon as he stepped out, he moved his wand in a sweeping motion and every pebble he could see turned into a paper crane. Although, technically, he wasn’t sure if they still counted as paper anymore considering Merlin had made them as hard as stone.

With another gesture, Merlin sent the birds through his golden shield, and they began attacking the Death Eaters present, aiming for the eyes. While they began sending spells at the birds and covering their eyes, Merlin grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him past the shield and Death Eaters. Turning around, Merlin spotted an opportunity in the almost incapacitated Death Eaters.

From his wand, Merlin sent golden ropes of magic that wrapped themselves around Voldemort’s men, solidifying once they were in position. A summoning spell brought all of their wands to Merlin, who elegantly snapped them. No sense in leaving a potential weapon around that wouldn’t work for him. He did almost pity the Death Eaters when they let out heartbroken sounds, but then remembered they were here to kill children, his students, and his resolve hardened.

“Why is he attacking now?” Harry asked.

“To make a statement.” Merlin responded. “He has been exposed far earlier than he had planned to be. Now, he needs to remind the public to fear him, otherwise he’ll risk looking incompetent.” Merlin grinned at Harry. “How about we make his fears come true?”

Harry grinned back, eyes glittering with determination.

“I like the sound of that, Martin.”

Harry sent a nonverbal spell in the direction of a second group of Death Eaters, who immediately turned to him.

“It’s Potter!” One shouted. “Take him alive!”

Harry shot out spell after spell, and Merlin joined him. He was feeling incredibly proud of the teen right now, even if he probably would have gone about attacking the Death Eaters in a different way.

“I’m not going to stop you from fighting,” Merlin said, causing vines to grow from the ground and trip up three Death Eaters, “but you have to stay close to me so I can keep you safe, okay?”

Harry nodded.

“That’s fair.”

“Zonko’s is closest, we’ll head over there and get Ron, and then to the stationary store to get Hermione.”

Harry nodded firmly, before letting out a cry of pain as a spell made a deep slash in his cheek.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed and he healed the cut neatly with a single gesture before exploding the Death Eater who had done it. He blinked, not meaning to do something so violent, but his magic had taken on a will of its own.

Around the town, several residents had been inspired by Merlin and Harry’s successful defense and were taking up their own wands. The old man from Honeydukes had been charming the Death Eaters’ robes into smothering them and Merlin was pretty sure he saw an apple pie impact one in the face, before the Death Eater began singing uncontrollably.

Merlin couldn’t help it. He laughed. Harry turned to him and grinned broadly, feeling a lot more confident about the fight now.

From Zonko’s, a literal army of Dung Bombs were thrown, causing the Death Eaters to start coughing and choking on the rancid stench. Merlin threw up bubble head charms on anyone nearby on their side before turning to look at the new source of chaos. Ron stood at the entrance to Zonko’s, grinning, tossing a Dung Bomb in his hand. He threw it and conked another Death Eater in the head, who screamed before collapsing. An army of quills zoomed out of the stationary store and joined Merlin’s paper cranes in harassing the Death Eaters. Hermione stood at the store’s entrance, clearly concentrating as she cast, but also enjoying herself.

“We’re making a total joke out of them,” Harry said in wonderment.

“A lot of the Death Eaters’ power comes from the fear of their reputation,” Merlin said loud enough to be heard around the street. “When you take that away, they aren’t the most impressive of wizards if someone with five years’ experience can kick their arses.”

Merlin suddenly felt a surge of magic so malevolent it almost made him choke on his words. The triumphant shouts around Hogsmeade became frightful screams, and many residents and students who had been brave enough to join in fled to the nearest building. A man dressed in long black robes strode through the crowd of nearly incapacitated Death Eaters, unaffected by the spells harassing them. Harry paled slightly but stood resolute.

“Martin Emrys,” he hissed, “the one responsible for the world knowing of my return.”

“Tom Riddle,” Merlin greeted coolly, unafraid.

The man hissed.

“How do you know that name?”

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Why do you ask? Are you ashamed that you’re leading a quest for pureblood superiority when you’re a halfblood?” Riddle scowled. “Or are you proud that you’ve tricked your followers for so long?”

“I am Lord Voldemort!” Riddle yelled. Awkward silence followed. Harry snorted.

Riddle’s eyes were drawn to Harry.

“Ah… Harry Potter. The boy who faced me in the graveyard not too long ago and managed to escape due to sheer, dumb luck.”

Harry’s face was unusually blank.

“I don’t think lasting for that long in a duel with you, remaining standing after multiple cruciatus curses and managing to escape you, your snake and all your followers is sheer, dumb luck.” Here, Harry steeled himself and Merlin knew he was about to say something stupid. He encouraged it. “I would call it exploiting your incompetence.”

Riddle let out an incoherent scream of rage and a spell flew from his wand. Merlin sent a paper crane to intercept it, and it exploded. And that was when the fight began.

Well, sort of.

If Merlin was really fighting, then Riddle would already be dead. But Destiny’s warnings about Harry’s path were still fresh in his mind. The spells they were trading now were dangerous, yes, but still nothing Merlin couldn’t easily handle with his eyes closed.

Riddle conjured a massive snake made of fire at least 60 feet long. Merlin felt more than saw Harry take a step back next to him. Merlin pursed his lips, knowing what he was about to do would be pushing the limits of the accepted powers as a teacher, but the snake would easily kill Harry unless he did something.

So, he did.

Merlin conjured a massive water dragon. It was so big he was unable to see just how big it was. All he knew was that he conjured it, the snake charged at it, and…

The dragon swallowed it whole.

Merlin laughed with delight and Riddle’s mouth dropped open for a second before he started sending killing curses left and right. Merlin focused intensely; one slip up here could cost Harry his life. Harry too was dodging the curses that he saw, but Merlin’s paper cranes were intercepting them before he was in any danger.

And then from behind, far too late in an environment saturated with it, Merlin felt a pulse of lethal magic. He spun around just in time to see an acidic green curse like the ones Riddle was throwing about to hit Harry from a nearly downed Death Eater. Merlin did the first thing he could think of – he slowed down Time.

Except… he didn’t really need to do anything. He felt magic very different to his own cloak Harry, and then Harry was literally cloaked by his Invisibility Cloak which had flown out of his pocket and shielded him from the curse, all on its own. Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise, now having had some of his suspicions confirmed, and released his control of Time.

The curse struck the cloak that was now draped over Harry’s shoulders, and Harry remained standing. Harry and Riddle’s eyes widened in shock in unison, which Merlin had to admit was a little funny, before Riddle disapparated, tearing through the wards in his haste to leave. The Death Eaters followed him.

Merlin’s hand came to rest on Harry’s shoulder where the cloak was, and he felt the cloak… purr in contentment? Apparently, his magic in Harry had led to some unforeseen outcomes.

“Hey Martin,” Harry began casually. “What the fuck just happened?”

Merlin let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m really not too sure.”

That was only partially true. Merlin did have some idea of what was going on, though a lot of it was speculation at this point. What he knew for sure was that Destiny was not going to be very pleased with him.

Chapter Text

Harry was starting to get used to the weird fluctuations in his magic. Okay, well, he would be if it wasn’t so bloody strange. It’s not that it felt bad, it just seemed more alive. Ever since Martin had flooded his body with his own magic, Harry’s magic had been… awoken almost.

For example, he was using his wand to create cool light patterns and noticed a smudge on one of his lenses. The next second, it was gone. That one he put down to his mind playing tricks on him. But the next second, he had seen his copy of Quidditch Weekly on Ron’s bed and fancied a read. Before he could get up, the copy had flown into his hands. When he started to get a little confused and hoped nobody had seen him, his curtains were drawn shut without any conscious thought on his part.

Harry knew that this would be a problem if he let it go unchecked. Sure, right now his magic was only trying to make his life more convenient, but how far would convenient stretch? Would it simply decide Harry’s life would be more convenient if Malfoy exploded the next time he tried to annoy Harry? Not that he had been doing that much lately, mostly he was just looking at Harry with an expression he couldn’t decipher. But he digressed. This was something that Harry needed to fix, and he thought he might know how to start.

Harry closed his eyes, and within a few deep breaths sunk into his mindscape. It was becoming easier every time he tried now. Once he opened his eyes, he found himself lying in the same bed, except now slightly different. He pulled back the curtains and stepped out. Now, where would he be able to find a place to communicate with his magic?

Harry facepalmed as a ridiculous idea came to his mind. He left the Gryffindor dorms and started walking upstairs to the first place in Hogwarts he thought of when he thought of communicating with people…

After he reached the owlery, Harry found Mind-Hedwig, who was the only owl sitting in the Owlery that was normally packed in the real world. He materialised a piece of parchment out of thin air and wondered who to address the letter to, before simply deciding on “My Magic.” He didn’t write the next part with a quill, but instead put into the parchment his thoughts and impressions in a more metaphorical sense. There were no words on the page, but the message was still communicated of “I appreciate your efforts, but can we not jump the gun…or wand in this case” to his magic. He gave the letter to Hedwig who took off after giving him an affectionate nip.

Harry waited in the Owlery for a few seconds before a sudden wave of acceptance and slight apology seemed to hit him from simultaneously inside himself and everywhere around him, and somehow he simply knew that his magic had gotten his message and didn’t mind him asking it to calm down. Relieved, and slightly in awe, Harry found himself back in the Gryffindor dormitories so he could leave his mindscape and sink into a dream.

The dream started out normal. Harry was on his Firebolt, flipping in the air. He saw the smallest glint of gold up ahead and started speeding towards it. As he got closer, he realised the gold wasn’t from a snitch, but from the golden engravings on a beautiful wand. He stretched his arm out to reach for it, knowing just how he knew with the stone that the wand was his. He had never wanted something more in his life.

Just as Harry’s hand was about to close around the wand’s handle, a pale hand batted it away. Harry’s eyes flicked to those of the woman now standing… hovering… in between him and his wand. She was very silver, her eyes especially so. Harry instantly felt a chill in the air, and if it wasn’t for the presence of his wand, Harry was sure he would have been dizzy.

“The Boy-Who-Lived,” the woman said, smiling beatifically.

Harry’s face was blank, but he felt a slight wave of annoyance course through him. Her smile looked very overdone and plastic, but she was looking at him with such confidence, he felt like he should be feeling something towards her right now.

“Love… such a beautiful thing.” The woman began. Harry stared at her in confusion.

“The Potter men have always liked redheaded women,” the woman in front of him said, giving him what Harry had thought was supposed to be a teasing smile. Was she… trying to seduce him into falling for a redhead? Gross. “Maybe, Boy-Who-Lived, you look a little closer to home.”

“Martin says that my grandfather married Dorea Black, and she had dark hair.” Harry said, resolving to think on why this woman wanted him with most likely Ginny later, when he knew he didn’t want to be with anyone.

“I have some advice for you,” the woman said, her eyes glittering. “You cannot trust anyone, Chosen One. They will only lead you astray.”

“Even you?” Harry asked coolly.

The woman looked perturbed by his response, before covering it up with another plastic smile.

“You can always trust me Boy-Who-Lived, even if it may not seem like it at first. But others… they lie to you, Chosen One, particularly that Martin Emrys-“

“My name is Harry,” he interrupted sharply. “And I trust Martin.”

The woman’s face filled with rage, and her plastic smile wasn’t fast enough to cover it.

“You shall see soon, Harry Potter, how many secrets he keeps. And then you will not trust in him anymore.”

With that, she disappeared into silver smoke, which formed a little horse that began cantering around Harry, before also disappearing.

“Of course I know he has secrets,” Harry whispered into his mind. “Big secrets. He all but actually told me he did, but I’ll wait until he’s ready to tell me the truth. I trust him.”

And with that, Harry inhaled sharply and woke up. His hands gripped his sheets and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself down from whatever kind of dream he had just experienced.

Harry’s dreams had started to become especially weird recently. Dreams of a wand, his cloak, a black stone. Dreams of a tall, lean figure with pale, grey eyes. Dreams that felt like power but also belonging. If not for the last type of dream Harry would have felt a lot more concerned.

He ambled out of bed and to the bathroom, washing his face. As he looked at his reflection, the room suddenly felt so suffocating that he had to get out. Immediately.

Harry quietly but quickly strode out of the dormitory. He left his cloak behind, feeling as though he needed the thrill that came from possibly being caught. Besides, it was something like four in the morning, prefect patrols would have ended, and no teachers would be awake.

In the corridors of Hogwarts, Harry felt a lot more at ease. Being in the place that looked like his mindscape was nice. The torches in the corridors were already on though, which was strange. Usually, they only turned on if someone had already… been here.

Harry rounded the corner and came face to face with Malfoy. The blonde grunted as he crashed into Harry and took a few steps back out of surprise.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked incredulously. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Potter,” Malfoy replied, his cheeks flushing to an angry red as soon as he made eye-contact with Harry.

Harry frowned, and the two boys studied each other in silence for a moment.

“I can’t be bothered with this right now,” Harry said, and started walking away.

“Wait!” Malfoy said, “I’ve always woken up this early, that’s why I’m out here.”

Harry levelled a calm gaze on him, and Malfoy turned away, unable to keep the eye-contact. Harry took the peace offering for what it was.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I’m taking a walk,” he offered up.

Malfoy didn’t seem to know what to make of that, but he was pleased that Harry wasn’t walking away anymore.

Malfoy took a step closer to Harry until he was in his personal space. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed and he attempted to step back, but his back hit the wall. Malfoy seemed to be searching his eyes for something but Harry wasn’t sure what. He must have thought he found it because a pale hand grabbed Harry’s collar and pulled, and the next thing he knew his lips were on Malfoy’s.

After taking a second to freak out, Harry shoved the blonde off him. Malfoy staggered back and Harry took a few large steps away from him.

“What was that?” Harry asked, his eyes wild, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Malfoy seemed to be a strange mix between mortified and self-assured.

“You gave me the look!” He said indignantly.

“What look?” Harry asked doubtfully.

“You know…” Malfoy said, and widened his eyes and cocked his head to the side, staring at Harry.

“You just looked confused! I cannot believe you just forced a kiss on me like that.”

“It’s romantic!” Malfoy protested. The confident look in his eye was starting to dim and now he mostly looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“You didn’t ask me, and I didn’t want it,” Harry snapped. “That’s not romantic.”

Malfoy’s ears had turned pink, and now he was determinedly staring at the ground.

“You fancied me this whole time?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Malfoy flushed an even deeper shade of red. Was this what he looked like when he was… flustered? Not angry? So, all of the times Malfoy stared at him in class…

“Since last year,” Malfoy answered with surprising honesty. “I mean, I jumped out of a tree to impress you, Potter. And this year didn’t help when you came back looking like that.” He said gesturing with his arm.

Harry would have laughed at the first part if he wasn’t so uncomfortable.

“I don’t know what to do now. I mean I thought you hated me.”

Malfoy seemed surprisingly vulnerable in this next moment.

“So, was it just the kiss you had a problem with? Can we still…?”

Harry’s eyes softened despite himself, and now it was his turn to look away awkwardly.

“I’m sorry Malfoy, but I don’t feel that way about you.”

Malfoy seemed to wilt before his eyes blazed.

“Fine!” He snapped, “see if I care!”

He turned on his heel and stormed off, and Harry watched him go, unsure how to deal with whatever just happened. His chest felt tight, and he was struggling to breathe.

Suddenly, he felt warm, smooth fabric touch his cheek, and the sheer shock forced him into taking a breath before he could continue to spiral downwards. Harry turned his head slightly to the right to see what was there.

“My cloak?” He wondered, “but I left you in my dorm?”

The cloak sent a pulse of reassuring magic and reached over to the other side of his face. Harry started as he realised it was wiping his tears. He huffed out a laugh.

“Alright, I guess this is a thing now. Come on, we may as well go the Hall and get a very early breakfast once it’s served.”

The cloak hummed and properly wrapped around his shoulders. Harry sighed as the warmth enveloped him and he felt properly at home. He walked downstairs to the Great Hall, determinedly not thinking about the events of a little while ago.

As he reached the door of the Great Hall, he tried to pull the cloak off his shoulders, but it wouldn’t move. Harry tried harder but the cloak clung on.

“I need to be visible now,” Harry said, before realising he was arguing with a piece of clothing.

The cloak hummed again before letting out a pulse of magic. Harry blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he had all of his limbs and his cloak looked like his regular school cloak. Well, that wasn’t quite right. There was a raven stitched on the breast pocket of the cloak, and when Harry trailed his fingers along the stitches, it was cool to the touch.

“You know, I’m just not going to question it, this is hardly the strangest thing that’s happened to me today.”

Harry opened the doors of the Great Hall and sat down at his normal seat. He rested his head on his hands and let the warmth of his cloak and the slight hum of magic that was constantly emanating from it lull him into a light doze.

He started as someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around in his seat to find Ron and Hermione staring at him concerned, Hermione’s hand still half outstretched. The Great Hall was a lot lighter now, and if Harry looked to the enchanted ceiling, he would see a rare blue sky. Seems he had fallen asleep.

“Mate?” Ron asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“Ron and I looked for you in the common room,” Hermione said before Harry could reply. “But you weren’t there, and Ron said you weren’t in your dorm, so we came looking for you here. We brought your things.” She dropped his bag next to the table.

Harry rubbed his eyes and stretched.

“I couldn’t sleep last night so I went for a walk… oh Merlin do I have something to tell you about last night.”

He drew them in to the seats next to him, huddled them close and relayed the events of just a short while ago to them. Ron looked immensely disturbed, and Hermione’s mouth was pursed, though her eyes had glazed over a bit.

“I can’t believe he kissed you!” Ron whisper yelled.

“How did you respond?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“I bloody-well shoved him off, didn’t I? I told him it wasn’t romantic, and he should have asked. Mind you, if he’d asked, I still would have said no and I told him as much.” Harry said firmly.

The glazed look in Hermione’s eye disappeared. Harry wasn’t the best at reading people, but he was pretty sure that she had been imagining what him and Malfoy would look like as a couple.

Ron was still stewing.

“Anyways,” Harry said. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, so let’s just move on.”

The two agreed, and Harry finally served himself some breakfast.

“You looked like you were having a crisis, mate,” Ron commented as he piled his plate high with bacon and eggs. “Just sitting there with your head in your hands.”

Harry huffed out a laugh.

“Luckily the cloak makes it difficult to see that I’m still in my pyjamas, otherwise people would really think I’m losing it.”

“Speaking of which, Harry,” Hermione piped up, “aren’t you hot in that? It’s surprisingly warm today and the cloak looks pretty thick.”

The invisibility cloak immediately became thinner and Harry felt the pleasant effects of a cooling charm rush through him. Hermione gasped and Ron’s eyes widened.

“Not a problem anymore,” Harry said. “Oh, by the way, I think the invisibility cloak is alive now.”

“That’s the invisibility cloak?” Hermione hissed.

“Yup,” Harry said, digging into his eggs. “It’s not an issue, so we’re not going to worry about it.”

Hermione didn’t seem to agree.

“I’ll check the library before DADA, and maybe we can tell Professor Emrys after class?”

Harry frowned in thought.

“You know, I hadn’t really considered it since the attack because there was so much going on and I was relieved to be alive, but I’m pretty sure this cloak stopped the Killing Curse. Martin, er, Professor Emrys can confirm it, he saw it happen.”

Ron and Hermione’s eyes widened in shock.

“It stopped the Killing Curse?” Ron asked in a hushed voice. The cloak purred.

Before Harry could respond, owls began entering the Great Hall to deliver mail. Harry saw a nondescript barn owl making its way to him with the copy of the Daily Prophet and Hedwig carrying a small note. Harry made some room for the two of them to land. Before Harry could do anything, his eyes were drawn to the front page of the Prophet.

“Voldemort’s Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban!” Harry said in shock.

Immediately, people flinched at the name before processing what he said and clamouring to read the paper. Harry skim-read the article, frowning at the mention of Neville’s parents. Speaking of which, Neville wasn’t in the Great Hall. Harry knew he had been there a few moments ago. He resolved to speak to Neville after that – he knew what it felt like to have people you cared about used for a story.

After that grim start to the morning, Harry paid the Prophet owl and reached for the note Hedwig was carrying, who gave a hoot, stole Ron’s bacon and flew back to the owlery. Harry flipped the note over to the side with writing on it where it simply said; “I’M FREE!”

“Harry!” Hermione said excitedly. “Read the next article.”

Harry flipped to the next page of the Prophet and then dropped it in shock. The headline read; “Sirius Black exonerated! Godfather of the Boy-Who-Lived?”

Harry slid out of his seat and speed-walked up to the staff table. Peoples’ heads turned and watched him go. Harry only stopped once he was standing in front of Martin.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “I know it was you, and I can’t tell you how much this means to me – to both of us.”

Harry really wished he could hug his teacher right now without everyone making a big deal about it.

Martin gave him a warm smile.

“Of course, Harry,” he said. “You both deserve this.”

Harry smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

“How can I repay you for something like this?” He asked.

Martin shook his head.

“I’ll tell you how,” he said, “just enjoy his company. You both were deprived of 13 years together, to repay me just make the most of the time you have now.”

Harry blinked rapidly and Martin gave him another kind smile.

“I think your friends want to talk to you, I’ll see you next period for my class.”

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak and practically skipped back to his seat.

Ron was grinning at him.

“Only two years later and Fudge finally catches up. Blimey, look at Umbridge’s face!”

Umbridge was staring at the second page of the prophet in shock and disgust.

“Well,” Hermione began, “whatever money they’re paying Sirius probably comes from the Ministry’s vaults. I think Professor Umbridge just learnt that her pay check was cut.”

Harry laughed before slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Come on, we can’t be late for Defense after what the Professor just did.”

His two best friends joined him, and the trio walked out of the Great Hall.

“We should check on Neville,” Harry said as they walked. “The article mentioned his parents.”

“Thanks, Harry, but I’m alright,” the guy in question said, appearing out of nowhere. Professor Emrys already talked to me. I’m angry, but I’m not going to attempt to murder the Lestranges… right now at least.”

After getting over her momentary surprise, Hermione asked.

“Wait, when did Professor Emrys speak to you? We left the Great Hall before he did and we didn’t see him leave.”

Neville shrugged.

“Just a few seconds ago, maybe he knows a passageway you don’t.”

The trio glanced at each other, thinking about the Map in Harry’s pocket.

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry agreed doubtfully.

The man in question, like Neville, appeared out of nowhere and ushered them into his classroom. Martin stood on top of his desk and instructed the rest of the students as the filed in to do the same. Once everyone was inside, he waved his wand to shut the door. In the front left corner of the room, a glass cage-like-structure appeared.

“We’re going to play a game that’s very famous in the Muggle world,” their Professor who Harry was certain was a little bit insane said. “It’s called the floor is lava.”

Harry glanced at Ron, Hermione, and Neville but before he could say anything, the room suddenly flooded with the red-hot liquid. Harry could actually feel the heat from the lava. Zacharias Smith gasped and took a step back onto the empty air next to his desk, and fell in. Several people screamed including Smith, but before anyone could really start panicking, a little ping sounded, and Smith appeared in the glass cage which was unaffected by the lava.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith, for demonstrating what happens when you fall into the ‘lava.’” Martin said, smiling slightly. Smith whirled around in the glass cage and frantically patted his body before he was teleported back to his desk.

“Professor,” Hermione said, eyes bright, “how did you do that? You can’t apparate in Hogwarts.”

Martin blinked before smiling.

“Runes are wonderful things; I suggest you ask Professor Babbling about some of their cleverer uses sometime soon. Rest assured that the runes only allow teleportation within this classroom, not from outside of it. Now, are we ready to begin the game? Oh, I should mention, this game is designed to test your use of shielding, and the last person standing wins 50 points for their house and an exemption from the next test!”

The class just looked at each other. Harry discreetly palmed his wand.

Malfoy was the first to fire, aiming directly at Harry’s head. Harry focused on forming a tiny shield at the very tip of his wand and batted the spell at Goyle sending him flying off his desk. Ron laughed.

The rest of the class then seemed to realise that they could also cast spells and all hell broke loose. Harry couldn’t even cast anything as he was so busy shielding from the many people who were determined to take him out. He knew he had established himself as one of Martin’s best students and people knew to win the game, he had to go first. Eventually, Harry formed a dome shield around himself and decided to play sitting duck until he decided what to do next.

He noticed Martin was calmly walking through the lava making sure things didn’t get too out of hand. More and more people were finding themselves in the glass cage, some of them unconscious. Finally, there was about six people left, including himself, Hermione and Ron. Harry was shocked to see Hermione turning her wand on him, smiling.

“Et tu, Hermione?” He said dramatically.

“I’m sorry Harry,” Hermione said in mock seriousness. “But all’s fair in love and war and the only way I’m winning this competition is if I break that shield.”

Ron shrugged.

“Sounds good to me, do you all just want to team up against Harry?”

Harry let out a betrayed cry and vowed then and there that he would be the last one standing. Martin was watching the proceedings with an amused smile on his face. When Harry made eye-contact with him, he was slightly surprised to note the apparent confidence Martin had in him. Now he was even more determined to win.

As soon as he came to this conclusion, spells began raining down on him from the five other players remaining to the point where all of the magic in the air made his shield opaque. His shield slowly started to crack, and Harry knew he didn’t have a lot of time left, but he couldn’t send out a spell while he was behind his shield.

He suddenly remembered the Hogsmeade battle, where Martin had made a tiny hole in the glass window of the Three Broomsticks to cast a spell at the Death Eaters. Surely the same principal applied here.

Harry crouched down on his desk and placed the tip of his wand against his shield. He mustered up his willpower and lightly pushed.

The shield gave a tiny ripple and he heard cries of triumph from outside it. However, he grinned. What the others thought was a weakness in his shield was actually his plan working as now the tip of his wand was outside the shield.

The heat of the ‘lava’ reminded him that he didn’t need to knock the other players unconscious, he just needed to push them in. He knew Ron and Hermione were behind him so he focused on the other three players and the direction their spellfire was coming from, before he sent a burst of magic through his wand.

There was a shout of surprise before Harry heard the sound of three desks clattering and all of the spellfire towards him had stopped. He assumed Ron and Hermione were a little surprised, so he just used that to his advantage.

Harry finally dropped his shield and summoned the desks his two best friends were standing on. They both shouted as their feet were yanked from underneath them and they fell in to the ‘lava.’ As soon as the fell in, the lava and glass cage vanished, and fireworks went off in the air above Harry’s head.

“Congratulations Mr. Potter!” Martin said with a proud smile. “50 points to Gryffindor!”
As his friends came over to pat him on the back, Harry grinned and realised something.

He had never felt more alive.